#Wilson's Mailbox

[presidentialconfessions]

Need need need more Progressive Era content. We got the modern stuff we got the antebellum and post civil war eras but COME ON. The closest we get is people shitting on Wilson but we have history's BEST bromance we have autistic king Calvin we have wet cat hoover and WARREN

[punch-love]

11, 17, and 55 for the fic writer asks!

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

in this fandom:

Midori Sour by oprime

The Infinity-Year-Old Virgin by comrade_bucket

Business and Pleasure by startingatmidnight

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

I don't write. I have more than a few creative hobbies so if writing isn't working out for me I usually just turn to something else that is.

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

I'm approaching this question as "which character is my favorite to write for" and that answer is always going to be Wade Wilson. It's so indulgent and borderline effortless to write him because he doesn't second guess his actions and his actions are always impulsive. It's such a lightning speed POV. You can also be so funny and so violent from his perspective, and whenever I was doing a dual POV work I looked forward to his chapters the most.

It absolutely was not swayed at all by my audience's reactions to him, otherwise he would be my absolute least favorite to write for. I've never tried to make a character so awful only to have readers redeem every single action he made regardless of how on purpose terrible I made it.

[harveyverse]

if you're still up for answering some very random character asks...

3. Luke 15. Willie (not skateboarding) 24. Carrie

ooh always!! thank you <3

3 & Luke: a song you asssociate with this character?

growing sideways and paul revere, both by noah kahan!! also ghost of chicago by noah floersch, i imagine the lyrics are from his pov about julie :D not 100% accurate but still. they’re all great songs so def check them out if you’d like!!

15 & Willie: what sport do you think they’d like?

i can really see him enjoying tennis!! although i might be projecting a lil bit here because i used to play tennis akdhskhdjdn but also maybe basketball or volleyball? not too sure abt these though. i feel like he’d definitely hate rollerskating because it kinda feels like skateboarding but also not at all, in a very weird way. so basically he’d feel like rollerskating is a ripoff of skateboarding lmao

24 & Carrie: do you think you could successfully pull off a crime with this character?

OH DEFINITELY!! and i’d love to do it too (only with fanon carrie though, as of right now i have a clear distinction in my head between canon and fanon carrie, and i haven’t made up my mind abt canon carrie yet). i’m not sure which crime i’d like to pull of with her. but only if it’s funny & no people/things (esp if those things mean a lot to someone) come to harm without a VERY valid reason

the ask game!!

[digi-056]

IF YOU DONT ADD MORE ACCESSORIES TO DESKTOP WRETCHED WILSON I WILL FIND YOU ♡

Alright that's all the models for the ghost jam..... Let's take a break and check Tumbl-

ACK! (; °Д°)

Don't worry, I plan to! Let me check my various to-do lists...

Uh... Garland and Spear are definite, I just have to figure out how to model the Garland (I may have been putting it off (￣┰￣*) )

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Not Allowed

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Receptionist!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: bad date angst, jealous bucky

Summary: You and Bucky always flirt with each other while at work but it never goes anywhere like you'd hope. You accept a date with another man, causing Bucky to be jealous. He's a cop who is jealous. Nothing will go wrong, right?

Squares Filled: kink: pet names (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You walk through the double doors with a smile on your face because today is another day. You’re alive and that’s the best kind of day. You work for the local police department as their receptionist. You’re the first thing people see when they come in so you have to be on your best behavior.

You set your things down on your desk and quickly get settled in. Besides the Captain, you’re the first one in the building. Every officer that comes in, you greet them with a smile as you log into your computer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Officer Wilson says when he comes in. He always calls you that since he's often told you how he thinks of you like a little sister. “How was your weekend?”

“Too short,” you chuckle. “Did Sarah get into that college?”

“Yeah, she got the acceptance letter yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for her!” you grin.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to give you a call.”

Sam taps your desk twice and leaves to go to his own. A few more officers come in until the one you’ve been waiting for walks in confidently. Your heart starts to race because you have a huge crush on him. He kind of knows it but doesn't outright call you out on it.

“There she is,” Bucky smiles and leans on your desk.

“Officer Barnes, it’s good to see you.”

“Doll, you know you can call me Bucky.”

He knows exactly what those pet names do to you. After a night of drinking together, you let it slip that your kink is pet names, and doll happened to be your favorite. Like him, you won’t call him out on it.

“I know. How was your weekend?”

“Better if you were there with me,” he flirts.

“Oh, Bucky,” you chuckle nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I was wishing, ‘Man, don’t I wish Y/N was here with me? I guess I have to drink alone’.”

“You know what alcohol does to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he smirks. “You look cute today. That dress compliments you.”

“A compliment. I might swoon,” you joke even though your cheeks are hot.

“As long as it’s in my arms, I don’t care.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to, Officer Barnes?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

“You might get fired.”

“It’s worth it,” he winks. “Here’s your coffee.”

He sets your favorite coffee order next to your keyboard and walks away. That’s the extent of your relationship with Bucky. You two flirt constantly but nothing ever comes of it. It’s comfortable. Why leave something when you’re comfortable being there? Do you wish you were something more? Of course. Do you think he’s going to man up and take it to that next level? Not unless something threatening happened like him realizing if he doesn’t do it soon, he’d lose you.

Some of what your work includes is printing off documents for the other officers, inputting things into evidence before they get shipped off there, and sorting through the files regarding the people they have locked up in the holding cells or interrogation rooms. You already have a list of things to print out and file, but you look for Bucky’s name first.

After printing off what he needs, you get up and personally hand this to him. There is a mailbox for the officers that you’re supposed to put in, but you like visiting his desk. He has a picture of you and him printed out and placed next to his computer that you look at every time you visit.

“Here are the papers you asked for,” you smile.

“Thanks, doll,” he grins and grabs them from you, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours.

You go back to your desk to finish your work, and you come across two people who need stuff put into evidence. One of them sent it over a couple of hours ago, and the other one is from Bucky. You immediately click on his name to get what he needs first before looking at the other one.

“Now that is bullshit,” you hear from behind you.

You jump and turn to see Sam standing there with a half-smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You scared me!”

“I sent you evidence hours ago and Bucky sent you it just now, and he’s the one you pick first?”

“I--”

You don’t have any words for that.

“When are you two gonna fuck?”

“Sam Wilson!” you gasp.

“What? It’s a valid question. I should ask him that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m rooting for you two no matter how painful the slow burn is,” he chuckles and walks away.

It takes half an hour to get the idea of you and Bucky fucking for you to do your job right. Once you’re in the groove of things, the door opens and an attractive man walks in.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here for my brother. He’s in lock up.”

“Okay, what’s his name and date of birth?”

“James Farley. 04/05/1986.”

“Your name?”

“Brandon Farley.”

“Okay, I see your brother here. It looks like--”

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, but--”

“Great. Can I take you out?”

“You can see how this is inappropriate, right?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he grins. “So, can I take you out?”

There’s a certain charm about him that you find endearing maybe because he reminds you of Bucky. Being put on the spot like that is enough to make you freeze up, so you say the one thing that won’t cause conflict.

“Yes.”

“Here’s my number.”

He grabs your hand and writes his number on it so that it won’t come off with one scrub.

“I have sticky notes!”

“This is better. Now you won’t lose it.”

“Go take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to bring you to your brother.”

“Thanks,” he winks and walks to the waiting room.

You’re about to get up and wash off the number when you notice Bucky standing in the doorway that leads into the precinct.

“Did I hear that right?”

“What?”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, he asked me out,” you stutter. Bucky looks pissed as if you just told him you killed someone. “Why do you look angry?”

“Nothing. No reason.”

Bucky walks off angrily leaving you confused. He avoids you like the plague for the rest of the day. He isn’t at his desk when you drop off paperwork, and he’s not there to walk you to your car when you get off. He’s supposed to get off an hour before you do, but he stays after not on the clock to make sure you get to your car safely.

This time, he didn’t.

The next day, Bucky is already at work when you arrive. There is no coffee on your desk, either, and you’re feeling guilty for accepting a date with someone else. Is that why he’s acting this way? Sam walks in drinking an energy drink when you stop him.

“Hey, what’s going on with Bucky?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, what did I do?”

“You accepted a date from someone else.”

You knew it. Why is he bigging out?

“So?”

“Have you not been here for the past two years? You two flirt like crazy.”

“No, he’s just being friendly.”

“You won’t get it until you do,” Sam shakes his head and walks off.

The date with Brandon comes sooner than you hoped. He picks you up in a fancy car and takes you to a fancy restaurant that you could never afford. He smooth-talks the hostess to get him a table by the window so he can have a view while he eats. The waitress brings by a drinks menu but he already orders what you two are going to drink.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this,” he winks at you.

“Okay,” you say and fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. “You know what I do for work. What do you do for work?”

You shouldn’t have asked him that.

“I work in the telecommunications sector. You know that big building in the city? That’s mine. It’s funny. I got all my parents’ money when they died and instead of using that money for myself, I decided to invest in a small company that turned out to give me millions.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues talking. “Can you imagine that? This small company that wasn’t going to go anywhere if it weren't for me. I’m like their hero. They eventually sold their part to me, and I’ve been thriving ever since.”

Once he got to talking about his job, he hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s very arrogant and rude but that doesn’t seem to stop him. As soon as the drinks come, you greedily take yours and down it without caring what it is.

“Whoa, doll, calm down. I don’t need to haul you to the car at the end of the night. You should pace yourself.”

No one can call me that but Bucky. Oh, Bucky. You shouldn’t have said yes to this man. He only asked you out to hear himself talk. You want this date to end so you pretend to be interested in what he has to say. Even when the date is over and he’s driving you home, he won’t shut up. His voice mixed with alcohol is starting to make your head throb.

About halfway to your house, you see red and blue lights behind you.

This better not be him, you think to yourself. Brandon pulls the car over obediently and waits for the officer to approach him. You look through the mirror to see the outline of the officer and recognize it immediately. He better not. I swear to God… Instead of walking to the driver’s side door, Bucky walks over to your door and leans down so only you can see him.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

“No.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He leans in so close that you can smell his delicious cologne. That makes your head spin.

“I’ll repeat myself. Step out of the car.”

“Or what? You’re gonna drag me out?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll,” he says so only you can hear it.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Brandon asks.

“Yes. You have a busted taillight.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be joking, sir.”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Shit. Officer, I can promise you I keep this car in the utmost pristine condition.”

“Not today, buddy. That’s a ticket.”

Bucky takes out his pad and writes Brandon a hefty ticket for a broken taillight you’re not sure is even broken.

“Fuck!” Brandon turns to you without guilt on his face. “Look, do you mind if I drop you off right here? Your house is only down the road. You can get there from here, right?”

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Bucky offers.

“Thank you. I’ll call you.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car. Bucky walks you to the passenger side of his cruiser. You look at the taillights of Brandon’s car and notice they’re both working properly.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you yell when he gets in the driver’s seat. “His taillights are broken! You can’t just do that. That’s illegal!”

“He’ll fight against it, and I’ll drop the charges,” he shrugs.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. We were actually having a good time,” you lie.

“No, you weren't,” he laughs.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. Your eyes don’t have the usual light.” Bucky pulls onto the road and heads in the direction of your house. “I don’t know why you would accept the date in the first place.”

“Because at least he had the fucking balls to ask me.”

That puts the entire car ride into a tense silence. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home. He pulls up to your place but instead of letting you get out first, he gets out and walks over to your side of the car. He opens the door but doesn't let you leave the car. He leans into the car, grabs your chin, and kisses you. You’re shocked but you won’t pull away from him. Both your lips move in harmony against one another, and he slides his tongue into your mouth to show you he means business.

“You’re not allowed to see other men.”

“Why not?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Because you’re mine now and I’m not gonna let you go.” This brings a smile to your face. He lets you get out, and when you pass by him, he taps your ass lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doll.”

Yes, you will.

x

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[kittenlittle24]

Mayfield

Masterlist

As usual GIFs aren’t not mine, comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated

The way you met was quite cliche. You recently moved to live in the same building, you stopped to check your mailbox at the same time he came home from work.

You were minding your business as the building’s door opened and two men entered, a brunet in a suit and tie and a tall salt and pepper-haired man with a cane.

The second man glanced at you with a frown as he fished his keys to unlock his apartment front door and you turned to open your own.

The other man noticed you as well and turned to look at you, he smiled at you.

“Are you new here?”

Smiling you nodded, “Moved here last week.”

The man with the cane stopped his actions and faced his companion, “How the hell would you if she lived here before or not?”

“House, you’ve been living here for the last twelve years, how would I not know your neighbors?”

Smiling awkwardly at them, you averted your eyes to look at the floor.

Reaching his hand to shake yours, he introduced himself and his friend.

“How long have you been living together?” You asked.

House laughed while Wilson shook his head.

They replied in sync, “We’re not gay!” And “Four years next weekend.”

Wilson turned shocked to House and scolded him, you laughed and wished them a good night before entering your apartment and closing the door.

You ran into House a few more times and eventually invited him to your place for dinner. You couldn’t help but be intrigued by him, of course, you couldn’t resist the temptation of looking him up and reading about his reputation, but you still needed to make some new friends.

House didn’t know why but he didn’t seem to mind your presence, you were interesting and clever not to mention attractive.

You didn’t speak about the relationship that was slowly developing between you. There wasn’t a need for it.

It was comfortable, yet still exciting. You shared dinners and alternated between spending the nights at your and his apartments. And so you found yourself sitting in House’s apartment, you were on his couch, glass of bourbon in your hand while he was playing on his piano. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, in fact, most Friday nights you spent in each other’s company.

“I got a new job.” You shared

He opened one eye and continued to sway gently in his seat to the sound of the piano.

“You heard of Mayfield?”

“The psychiatric hospital?”

You nodded and took a sip.

He stopped playing and turned to sit facing you, “As what?”

“As a doctor there.” You answer as if obvious.

he rested one arm on the top of the piano, “The last couple of months we’ve been inseparable, you should be paying me rent considering how much time you spend here, yet you didn’t think to tell me you're a doctor?”

You shrugged with a cheeky smile and he chuckled before moving to stand in front of you. He held his right thigh as he crossed the room, stopping when your knees were between his legs. He bent down, hands holding on the backrest, effectively trapping you between with his body. Smiling softly at him, your eyes danced between his mesmerizing ones.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted your chin to reach his lips. Kissing him softly. You pulled apart and he sat down next to you, you rested your head on his shoulder and grabbed the remote to put something to watch.

The room was dark, the TV the only light source, and you were lying with your head in his lap, nearly asleep.

“Guess I’ll be seeing less of you,” He murmured, breaking the silence.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes tiredly, your eyebrows scrunched together, “It’s a 7 on 7 off. I’ll be here plenty.”

He nodded and reached to move a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Your relationship held surprisingly strong, House wanted it to work which is why he went to Cuddy and admitted that he wasn’t okay.

You were on a two-week long shift, that felt longer, you were tired and missed your bed; you agreed to cover the next week for a colleague who was on vacation. So instead of one week-long shift, you finished yours and started hers.

On your lunch break, you stepped aside and tried to call House. You were a tad disappointed when you got his voicemail, but didn’t think much about it. You tried again before you went to sleep, lying on the stiff, thin mattress in the bunk bed, phone in your hand as you stared at the screen. Perhaps he just turned it off or forgot to charge it, probably turned it off to avoid work, you rationalized to yourself.

You sent a ‘good night’ text for him to see later before putting the phone down and falling asleep.

The alarm clock pulled you out of your sleep, letting out a big stretch before sitting up and checking your phone. First, you checked if House replied but it wasn’t even delivered.

You grabbed your clipboard and made your way to the department you were covering this week. You entered ward 6, immediately welcomed by Alvie who ran up to you, overly excited, to tell you about his new roommate.

“I didn’t know we had a new admission, is he nice?”

He laughed and moved in his spot, “Nope. Not at all. You can call him ‘Heezy.’

“No, you can’t.” A familiar voice stated firmly.

Gently you moved Alvie with a hand on his bicep so you could see the man behind him; your eyes wide open in shock.

“Greg, what are you doing here?”

You pulled him aside to a private room and reached to touch his now short hair, your other hand cupped his cheek softly.

He lowered his eyes, avoiding eye contact, “I was hallucinating from the Vicodin. Dr. Nolan is blackmailing me to stay.”

You nodded, “If you follow the schedule, agree to take meds, participate in group and individual therapy-“

He raised his gaze to look at you and lowered your hands from his face, “I want out of here.”

“It’s not even my department, I’m only covering.”

He closed his eyes and sighed.

You opened the door to leave, turning to him in the doorway, with furrowed brow, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You whispered, your hurt seeping into your words.

He didn’t answer, just lowered his head again.

You rushed down the hallway, you saw House holding Freedom Master’s bloody jacket. You sat beside him in the waiting room at the hospital they were taken to. Nolan called you immediately after getting the news. You looked at your boyfriend, he looked shocked and overwhelmed.

“I need help.” He whispered.

You took a deep breath, stroking his hair and his face, you weren’t sure if you were trying to comfort him or yourself.

“Nolan suspended me until you’re released.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, you’ve never seen him look as afraid as he did at that moment.

You came to visit house every day, he seemed happy you did. He told you no one else has come and that pinched your heart. He was improving and he even told you that his leg hurt much less. You even met Alvie his roommate who told you about the upcoming talent show, which made House very flustered.

You were about to leave, House followed you to the door, his forehead against yours, and he laid short butterfly kisses against your lips.

“Are you going to perform in the show?”

He scuffed and let out a small chuckle as he shook his head.

“I’m gonna come see it anyway.” You decided.

He smiled at you, his big hands cupping your face, his thumbs stroking the apple of your cheeks, “You just want any excuse to see me.”

Grinning, “You’re on to me.” You admitted.

There were about 20 people in the audience watching. Most of the performers were sitting there when not on stage. House was standing in the back, leaning against a wall. His cane is tucked under his arm, his gaze alternating between your back and the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen. The one, the only, Juan Alvarez!”

Alvie ran from the back of the “theater” to the stage.

“See, we got hidden talents. You don’t see hidden secrets. If we could show you those,” He imitated a record scratching as he stalled thinking for the next line.

He stopped and rubbed his head as he tried to think of the next line.

“Then we wouldn’t have no regrets.” House bailed him out from the back.

You turned and smiled at him widely.

“Wanna know my secrets? Sit back and let me explain it. My Pops split, Mama got sick

Cliché, ain’t it. Now I’m a manic Hispanic. I’m trying to make it work, But the doctors think I’m lazy,” he stuck again he looked at Greg.

“And my roommate is a jerk.” Greg supplied.

“Dr. House is in the house, y'all. Give it up for Dr. House to the stage, y'all. Paging Dr. House to the stage, y'all.”

House waved him off. The audience and you especially clapped loudly to encourage him.

“Are you there, Dr. House it's on. Bring it on.”

House stood up straight and made his way towards the stage. He tossed his cane off stage and got into the rhythm.

As Alvie finished the rap, House nodded a little shyly, acknowledging the applause. He put his arm around Alvie’s shoulder and together they took a bow.

On the way back from Mayfield you stopped to get some groceries, as well as ice cream and snacks to munch on while you spend another weekend on your own. You contemplated between the ice cream flavors, you saw a new tub which was whiskey hazelnut and you couldn’t help but add it to your cart, although you knew you’d never eat it, you just knew that House would love it.

Once at home you finished unloading the groceries and decided to unwind with a glass of wine. Just as you sat down and closed your eyes a sudden loud knock on the door startled you. You opened the door just a crack, enough to see your boyfriend’s familiar face. Grinning wildly as the door hit the wall from the force you opened it and threw your arms around his neck.

Staggering backward with his arms around you, he chuckled and embraced you.

“Nolan gave me a night pass. I have to go back in the morning.”

Smiling, you nodded and pulled him inside.

“I got something for you,” you told him as you got the ice cream and two spoons.

“You didn’t know that I’d be allowed to leave.”

Sheepishly smiling, “It wouldn’t have gone bad in the freezer, it would’ve waited for you.”

He leaned forward and kissed you, not that he’d admit but he was touched by the gesture.

Stroking his face before reaching to play with his now very short hair, “By the way,”

He raised his eyes from the ice cream carton to look at you.

“I hate the new haircut.” You shared, making you both laugh.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 15: Shotgunning with Deadpool

Pairing: Deadpool x Nongendered!Reader Word Count: 2201 Warning: Drug use (weed), Shotgunning, Wade's affinity for nicknames, Making out, Lil bit of heavy petting (Over clothes). Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

You and Wade Wilson have a…Unique relationship.

It started simply enough. You were neighbors, your apartment being to the left of his. You’d seen him a few times in passing, weird ass red and black suit and swords and guns, covered in blood on more occasions than not, which he always promised wasn’t his as if that was any comfort.

It didn’t take long for his job as a mercenary to get mentioned, though it was in this quickly mentioned and moved on from way, like when the person you’re talking to already knows a fact, so you touch on it and leave it at that to continue the conversation.

It made the weapons make more sense, but it did nothing to explain the full body suit he wore, though with the way he joked about his “ugly mug” you had a feeling that he may have scars from his work or maybe a birthmark that he didn’t like people to see.

You could respect that, not like it was anyone’s business anyway.

For months the only interactions you had with the man were when your paths crossed in the hallways, stairwell, or at the mailboxes. That is, till he fell through your window one night at three in the morning, covered in blood and missing a whole fucking hand.

He’d thought your window was his.

After panicking, because what the actual fuck, you helped him back to his apartment and basically babysat him while his hand grew back because you didn’t really believe that it would. Then it did.

You know about Mutants, have several friends who are mutants, it was nothing out of the ordinary for you, but this was a lot to take in, especially after being woken from dead sleep.

Wade had offered you some weed to help calm your nerves, and his at having someone in his space but you hadn’t known that at the time.

That was how you two fell into a semi-routine of hanging out once or twice a week to smoke and watch shit T.V.

He’d never taken his mask all the way off, but in order to take hits and eat he’d had to lift it, showing the scars that covered the skin on his chin and mouth, you make a point of not letting your eyes linger on his bare skin, so as not to make him uncomfortable, but the truth was it didn’t bother you.

This particular day you’d been a little late to the sesh because you’d decided to cook instead of order in, food was usually on you since Wade provided the weed, and it was more than a fair trade, and you always either bought or made enough for leftovers. Win, win, win.

You had to kick the door rather than knock, hands too full of the baking dish filled to the brim with lasagna, and the bag full of smaller snacks hanging from your arm.

The door opened a moment later to reveal Wade taking up the while doorway with his broad body, clad in a pair of grey sweats, a black hoodie, and his red and black mask. It always threw you for a loop seeing him in casual clothes but still wearing the mask, but you doubted he had a casual mask he could wear, unless he wanted to wear a ski mask or something, which would be even weirder.

“Hey, sweet thang!” He was grinning as he spoke, energy was infectious as a smile of your own found your face.

“Hey, mind letting me in? Or would you rather eat this off the floor?” You joked as you shifted your hold on the dish.

He moved to let you in, muttering a “I’d eat it off you if you let me.” As you reach the kitchen, the sound of the door closing behind you almost concealing the words.

He said stuff like that a lot. Sometimes you wondered if he actually meant it or if it was one of his ‘boxes’, or just an intrusive thought given voice. You hoped it was the first option but seeing as he never acted on any of it or said it in a way that he thought you’d hear, you assumed it was one of the others and never called attention to it.

You wished he meant it though. In the time since you’d gotten to know the man, in all his insane antics and danger, you also learned he was actually really sweet and thoughtful. He’s also sad, and really lonely. He’s mentioned someone he calls Wolvie being a friend, but usually complains about how mean he is in the same breath, so you’re not sure how many friends Wade actually has.

What you knew for sure though, was that you had the worst schoolgirl style crush on him.

It was a little embarrassing and you hoped it wasn’t obvious. He never said anything about it if it was, not counting his mutterings, but you weren’t going to hold him to words said that you clearly weren’t meant to hear.

It didn’t take long for you to settle into his couch, a cloud of smoke floating over your head as the sound of the T.V. filtered into your ears, the characters on it were in a similar position to you and Wade, smoking and letting the bonelessness take over, only they were clearly the love interest of the movies narrative. You watched as the man leaned in and blew the smoke into the woman’s mouth, a slow and sensual curl of grey that looked like an ethereal kiss.

You knew what shotgunning was, but you’d never had the chance to try it with someone, and you felt your face flush as you imagined doing it with Wade.

“You good there, cherry tomato?” He teased as he passed the joint to you, the second one of the day, and freshly lit.

“Yeah.” You managed, voice sounding a little tight, but you could blame it on lack of breath before taking a hit, the smoke burning its way through your lungs then turning everything soft. You pointed at the T.V. “You ever done that?” You asked without thinking, the weed asking the question for you.

He looked at the T.V., where the pair were still passing smoke between their lips and so close to kissing, then back to you. “What, shotgunning? Yeah, not great for getting high, but really good for getting in someone’s pants.” He chuckled and you could feel his eyes on you, scanning over you like he could tell why you’d asked. “Why? You wanna try it?” He teased.

The question made you jump a little, or it felt like a little, you could have jumped a mile, or you may not have moved at all, it was hard to tell.

Your face scrunched in what you hoped looked like nonchalance. “Nah, just curious is all.” You lied.

You felt his body heat before anything else and when you turned to look at him, his head was tilted, and a smirk planted firmly on his lips.

“That blush says otherwise.” He still sounded teasing, but there was something under it, a low rumble that denoted a seriousness you weren’t used to from the merc.

“So, what if I do?” You shrugged, trying not to give away how your heart was hammering in your chest.

He mimicked your shrug. “If you ask nicely, I might be willing to help you out.”

You rolled your eyes, of course he would find a way to turn this into a game, cheeky bastard.

“Please, oh please, Wade. Won’t you teach me how to shotgun?” You said, calling his bluff with sass dripping from every word.

His smirk spread into a slow grin. “Well, since you asked so politely. Sure, Dollface, I’ll teach ya.” He said, sitting back against the couch once more and patting his lap. “C’mere.”

For as high as you felt moments ago, you now felt jarringly sober now, you hadn’t thought he was being serious, not with the way you both always tease each other, but you found yourself crawling from your spot on the couch with shaky limbs to straddle Wades lap anyway.

You swallowed thickly as your hands came to rest of his shoulders, unsure of where else to put them, while his made themselves perfectly at home on your hips.

As if sensing your nerves, you saw his smile soften. “You know you don’t have to do anything, right? I won’t be offended.” There was something insecure in his words, like he was worried he was the reason you might not want to.

“I wouldn’t have moved if I didn’t want to, Wade.” You answered. “I was pretty comfy.” You smiled and he snorted softly.

“Okay, then.” He said before one of his hands left your hip to pick up the still smoldering joint. “It’s really simple. I take a hit, then we get nice and close, and you inhale when I exhale. Got it?” He asked, holding the roach inches from his lips.

You nodded. “Got it.”

The cherry glowed as he drew in, holding it in his mouth as his other hand found its way to your cheek, tilting your head to line up your mouths, your lips parted in anticipation and your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his hoodie, the muscles under your hands flexed at the action, but there was no reaction beyond that.

Holding the joint away from both of you, he leaned in slowly, you could feel his eyes watching you but all you could look at were his lips, scarred as the rest of what you’ve seen of him, but you could see from the shape that they were once full and pouty.

The smoke curled from between his lips as he blew it gently toward you, and you inhaled as much as you could, what little you missed went twisting up into the air over your head.

He was right when he said this wasn’t very good for getting high, as you held the secondhand smoke and felt it do almost nothing, but with the proximity, the solid press of his body under yours, you understood why the pair on the T.V. had seemed to enamored with each other. You felt drunk on him and nothing had really even happened yet.

Blowing the smoke over your heads to join the rest of the cloud you felt something twitch against your leg, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was.

Wade was hard.

“Well? What do you think?” He asked once you looked back at him, his voice was low, just this side of a whisper.

“I don’t know…Think I might need another try, you know, to really decide how I feel about it…” You murmured, eyes flitting between his and his lips.

The corner of his mouth ticked up slightly and he nodded, bringing the joint back to his lips. This time as he exhaled and you inhaled, you felt his cock jump again, and rather than resist the urge, you pressed against him, almost grinding.

Wade’s breath turned shuddery and his hold on you tightened slightly. “That’s just not fair, Babycakes…” He scolded lightly, not actually bothered by your actions.

“Who ever said I play fair?” You countered, smirking down at him, still mere inches from his face.

He nodded slowly, like he was thinking out his next move. “Well, then in that case…” He trailed off before taking hold of your hips once more, and in a motion more fluid than you expected, maneuvering both of your bodies till you were laying on the couch, and he was hovering over you. “I won’t either.”

You stared up at him wide-eyed for a moment as your mind caught up to your body, and when it did, you brought your hands to his face, the muscles there twitched as if resisting a kneejerk reaction, but he didn’t move. “Not gonna touch the mask.” You promised. “But if you don’t kiss me, I think I might just die.”

He leaned even closer, so close you could almost feel his skin. “We can’t have that, now, can we?” He whispered, breath ghosting over your lips, then he made contact.

His lips weren’t as rough as his scars might lead one to think, scar tissue tends to be thick but rather soft, and his was no exception, but you were too busy focusing on just how good a kisser Wade was. Tilting his head to mold his lips to yours, teeth and tongue meeting yours smoothly and even sweetly. It all made your heart soar, and your pussy clench.

Your hands trailed down his body slowly, feeling every dip and curve he had to offer, till you reached the bulge in his pants, giving a careful stroke over the fabric, and earning a pleased hum for your efforts.

“That’s a dangerous game, you sure you wanna play it?” He asked against your lips.

“More than sure.” You answered.

That game was played for the rest of the night, and most of the next day.

[admrlthundrbolt]

Alone Together (Nandor the Relentless x Chubby Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moving to a new home to take care of your grandfather was one thing. But finding out that the neighbors are Vampires. Well nothing could prepare you for that. If only you noticed just how much attention Nandor gave you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys. I'm back at it again. I watched the newest season of What We do in the Shadows recently. Which reminded me of how much of a himbo Nador is. Including how quickly he falls in love. So it wasn't hard for him to become my muse.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy.

---------------------------------------------------------

Standing in the kitchen your gaze wandered to the window. The veiw was one you still hadn't gotten used to. Traveling halfway across the country can do that to you.

Turning back to the oatmeal that was bubbling away on the stove top, you stirred it. Spooning some into a couple of bowls, you set off for the living room.

“Here you go Papa.” Placing the bowl on a serving tray in front of him. You sat on the nearby couch, not yet eating.

He tore his eyes from the TV, playing old black and white reruns. Then frowned down at his breakfast. Placing his spoon in the oatmeal he scooped up a bit and let it fall back into the bowl. “Now I'm not one to complain.” You had to fight to keep the smile off of your face. “But honestly would it hurt to have something with a little more flavor?”

You let the smile slid onto your face as he finished. Heading to the kitchen you grabbed a jar of honey and started back. Only to give it a second thought, snatching up a tablespoon too. “I get where your coming from, really I do. But it's the doctor's orders, gotta watch your cholesterol.” Standing next to him you held out the jar. “I'll make you a deal. You can have a serving of this, if we watch something in color.” Noding he reaches for the jar. “That isn't the news.”

He deflated a bit at that, but still agreed. Then perked up suddenly and said. “Speaking of news, could you go grab the paper.”

“Sure, but I'm not leaving the honey.” Walking away, you chuckled at the mumbled obscenities that left his mouth.

Going out to grab the paper, you decided to check the mailbox as well. “Junk, junk, Bill, Nandor The Relentless?” It was an odd thing to see in a letter. Equally as bizarre was the ornate nature of the peice of mail. As you looked over the envelope, you realized that it wasn't your address. Glancing at the number's on the other nearby mailboxes, it seemed to match a neighbor's. It was the home that you had seen a nervous looking younger man. He was usually working on the yard or house. It was an older Gothic manor of a home, so the upkeep was probably brutal.

Heading back in you dropped the mail next to your grandfather's breakfast. Then turned and made for the front door again. “Going to give the neighbor's some of their mail we got.”

He nodded half heartedly as he stuck his nose in the newspaper. “OK, while your there see if they have something tastier for breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Waving your hand around, you beelined towards the mysterious letter owner. Not seeing anyone in the front yard, you made your way up to the front door and knocked. Glancing around the house as you waited, you couldn't help but admire the odd architecture. As you were about to knock again, thinking the home owner may not have heard you, the door swung open. It was the anxious guy and a camera crew? Raising a brow you held up the letter. “Hi, I live over there.” You pointed out your grandfather's house. “We got one of a piece of your mail, Mr. Nandor.” Holding it towards him, you smiled.

He seemed to be in a bit of a daze, until you moved the letter towards him. “Oh, thank you. I'm actually Guillermo, Nandor is my Master.” He seemed to flinch at his words and quickly changed the subject. “Isn't that Mr. Wilson's house. I didn't know he had moved.”

Shaking the odd feeling from your mind, you shook your head. “No, he's still there. He's my grandfather, after my grandmother passed. Well, I offered to move in and help out. It seems to be a good decision for both of us.”

He noticed how the smile slipped from your face as you explained. “I was sorry to hear about your grandmother's passing. I'm glad that Mr. Wilson has someone to count on.”

Your smile had returned at the statement. “That's if I can keep up with the old man. I'm (Y/N) by the way.” You held your hand out and was impressed with the grip his handshake had. “Speaking of, I should probably get back to the house. Before he sends out the search parties that is." Turning back towards your home, you threw a quick comment over your shoulder. “Hope to see you around."

This left a flustered Guillermo to rush back inside. Pushing the crew away from his flush expression, he made for his master's room. Placing the letter down on a nearby dresser. He left for his own room. To definitely not think about how great it would be to have someone outside of the vampire house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nandor was restless. Something was causing his slumber to constantly be interupted. That something happened to be a scent. The moment it entered his room he couldn't settle down. But his internal clock knew it was nowhere near sundown. So he tossed and turned, enduring the distraction.

“Morning Master.” Came the timid voice of Guillermo.

Before he could approach the coffin, Nandor burst from it. His glowing eyes searched the room. Taking deep breaths, he felt like a hound seeking out his prey. Following his nose he found a letter addressed to himself. Tearing it open, he rummaged for the source of the smell. Only to find that the letter itself was covered in the odor.

“Master?” The familiar glanced nervously at the documentary crew.

His nervous call, made the vampire finally notice that the familiar was in the room.

Gathering his composer, he turned to the other man. “Ah Guillermo, I was just inspecting this letter. Could you tell me why it smells this way.”

He was about to laugh off the notion, it was just a piece of mail. That was until he remembered how it got to the house, you. You had hand delivered the letter. He cringed at the thought of his master sinking his fangs into you. The new neighbor that was taking care of their newly widowed grandfather. So as his master glared expectantly down at him. He decided a half truth would be the best way to keep you safe. “It was delivered this morning. Maybe the post office has a new mailman.”

He towered over his familiar and a smile broke out on his face. “Yes, that must be it. A new person has started working at the postal building.” He placed the letter in his coffin. Trying and failing to be subtle about it. “Keep an eye out for this postal person. They may be more interesting than they lead on.”

“OK Master. Did you have anything planned for today.” Glancing at the crew He hoped the subject change would distract the vampire. At least enough to keep your name from spilling out of his mouth.

“Yes. I would like to look at horses. So I will need you to set up the light box.” With a flourish of his cape, he walked out of the room. A very relieved human following after.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taking a long swig from your water bottle, you wiped the sweat from your brow. The feeling of your muscles burning was a pleasant sensation. It was nice having a bit more free time. But the thought of sitting around all day was not the way you wanted to live.

You were thankful for all of the gyms that were a stones throw away from home. It honestly seemed like you couldn't go a couple of blocks without passing a gym. But hey, you weren't going to complain about a convenience.

Finishing out your set, you cleaned the machine. The warmth built up in your limbs made you decide it was time for a cool down. Seeing a few treadmills free, you went to grab a spot. Only to shift paths to the bikes as you spot a familiar face.

Sitting down next to him, you felt bad at how much you seemed to startle him. “Sorry buddy, didn't mean to spook you.” Starting to pedal the exercise bike, you hoped he didn't mind you setting up next to him.

He shook his head. “No, you're fine. Didn't expect to see you here is all.”

“I get that.” A stale silence lingered between the two if you. Thinking that a subject change would ease the tension, you said. “So did Nandor get their letter?”

His shoulders tensed a bit at the mention of his Master. Glancing at you, he saw the gentle expression on your face. He was reminded that you were a regular person. That just seemed as lonely as he felt sometimes. So he nodded and gave you a quick smile. “He did, he got a little excited about it too. You know how older people can be about letters though.”

You nodded. “Oh don't I know it. Everytime my Grandfather gets a personal letter in the mail you would think it was his birthday.”

This confirmed your suspension of Guillermo being in a similar situation as yourself. You had heard from another neighbor that there were a group of people that lived in the house with him. And seeing him do all of the yard work. Well it wasn't like some elderly people could handle those type of tasks. It made you like him even more, knowing that you could have a kinship through caring for others.

So you cycled next to each other and made plans to meet up at the gym more often. You loved the idea of having a workout buddy. While he was relieved that he could spend some time with you, away from the house of course.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finishing up another workout, you bid Guillermo a goodnight. No matter how many times you offered him a ride home he always declined. Even as the year settled into winter he still insisted. Something about how a brisk walk was how he preferred to end a workout.

Shaking your head at how odd he could act, you didn't notice the item in your path. Catching yourself on a nearby wall, you looked down. It was a worn out dark wallet. You picked it up to take to the front desk. Only to stop as you notice that Guillermo's license was in it. Walking to the front, you glanced either way down the sidewalk. His curly locks were nowhere in sight. With a shrug, you headed back towards the locker room. It wouldn't be a problem to drop it off to him. Plus it would be nice to meet the Nandor you've heard so much about. But had never had the opportunity to be introduced.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hearing the front door open Nandor narrowed his brow. “Guillermo, come to the library. I wish to to purchase a item and need the plastic card.” The quick patter of footsteps followed the command.

“Coming Master.” Then a pause in his step and the sound of rustling. “Um, do you happen to know where my wallet is?”

Rolling his eyes, the Vampire rose from his seat. Making his way over to the familiar, he scoffed. “Of course not. If I did than I would not have asked you for the card.” Sending a look at the camera, he said. “Fucking guy.”

As the younger man went to tear his room apart, a knock rang through the house. “Could you please get that Master.” Then realizing that that could be seen as a demand he added. “So I can find the credit card for you.”

Throwing a hand over his shoulder, he headed to the entrance. “Very well, but don't expect this to become a regular thing.”

Swinging the door open he paused. He was sure that if he still needed breath to live, it would have caught. You were a beacon of beauty. A vision of soft splendor that he could loose himself in. Then your scent hit him and an indescribable hunger welled within him. A baser urge rose from within himself and he lunged towards you. Not sure what his inner instincts were forcing upon him.

Before you could get a word out, however, your muscle memory took over. Which caused the hand holding the wallet to strike out. Causing Nandor to halt in his movement.

“For fucks sake!” His hands cupped his nose and he was surprised to feel liquid. Pulling a hands back, he couldn't help but admire the blood coating his fingers. Glancing up at you he was taken aback at the compassionate expression on your face.

You quickly took his face into your hands and fussed over him. “I'm so sorry, it was just instinct. I can't believe I hurt you." Tugging a few tissues from you bag. You gently pressed them to his nose.

Even though he knew his vampiric powers had already healed him. He let you take care of him. Your touch was warm and gentle. Your soft hands flitted over his face in a pleasant manner that he could indulge in for hours.

The nose bleed had seemed to stop. Taking a step back,you gave him a nervous smile. “I really am sorry about all this. I just wanted to return Guillermo's wallet.” This caused the mystery man to step towards you.

“Why are you interested in seeking an audience with my familiar?” He had a disgruntled tone.

Brows furrowing at his statement, you repeated yourself. “I wanted to return his wallet. He dropped it at the gym and I thought I would give it to him. I mean it's not like it was out of my way or anything." You gestured to your home and sent him a hopefully pleasant grin.

Narrowing his eyes at the house. He wonder what else his familiar could be keeping from him. “I see, let me call for him.” Facing into the house, he said. “Guillermo, there is a visitor at the door.” Side eyeing the crew, he waited.

You both waited for him to return. Nandor took the time to admire you for a moment longer. While you were excited, yet confused, to learn about your friend's housemates. This honestly wasn't the situation you thought he was living in. Still it seemed that he helped the people he stayed with.

He jogged to the front, but slowed his stride at the sight in front of him. Two of the people he never wanted to meet, standing beside each other. His heart began racing. You being here was as surprising as you not being dead. The way his Master reacted to your scent. He belived if the vampire ever got downwind of you, it would be your end. Instead he was gazing down at you in wonder.

“Hey, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time.” You sheepishly shifted your gazed to Nandor, then quickly back to him. “I just wanted to make sure you got this.” Holding the wallet out to him, you were happy to see the relief that spread across his face.

Taking it from your hand, he embraced you. “I can't believe you found it. Thank you (Y/N).” Shifting back, he was surprised to see the angry look on his Master's face.

“It's nothing really. You must have dropped it and when I happened to find it outside of the locker rooms. Well, I didn't think it would be a problem to drop it off. Not like it's a long trip or anything.” Grinning you pat his back.

Nandor stepped a bit closer to you. It seemed his familiar had grown close to what should be HIS. He had only known you a few moments. But he felt a possessiveness clawing at his insides. “Yes, she was just telling me about your time together at the gym. It has made my interest in the location grow. I should like to join you at your next session.”

Guillermo's eyes pleaded for you to say no. Knowing you though, there was no way that you would reject someone without a reason.

“Sure, the more the merrier.” Noticing how dark the sky had gotten, you stepped towards the door. “Text me the details Guillermo, I've got to get to my grandfather.”

Both men waved as you left. Each dreading you departure for very different reasons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next gym trip was an interesting one. You didn't expect Nandor to show up in only a pair of tight ornate pants. But if that was what put him in the mood for a good burn, then who were you to judge. It also didn't hurt that it made it that much easier to observe him. His muscles twitching and veins pulsing. All while he lifted over five time your body weight. Well it didn't take long for the more steamy thoughts of what his muscle could help with.

He was thoroughly enjoying his time with you. It was a nice change to have a workout partner. Watching as you pushed your body and strengthen yourself. It was enough to make him go wild. How could something be so soft yet ferice? If only he didn't have to share you.

“That's great Guillermo, just one more press.” You loved to encourage him. IT always seemed to help him push to new heights.

Noticing the vampire sneer from the corner of his eye, he shook his head. “No. I can't keep going.”

Your smile faultered. He was shaking and his breath was pretty labored. Sliding behind him, you positioned your hands under the barbell. “OK. If you want to burnout, I've got you.” Nodding down at him, you prepared for the worst.

He felt guilty for worrying you. Until he saw his Master holding back a hiss. So he moved the weights and focused on you instead. The only person whose treated him like a human. No, a friend, in a long time. Taking all his frustration out on his muscles.

That is if his sweaty palms didn't slip from the barbell. You caught it, but a sickening pop came from your shoulder. Crying out, you lurched backwards to keep the weight from falling on him.

The vampire sprung into action. One hand pulling the equipment from you. He cradled you against him with the other. Touching your shoulder, he was relieved to see that it only seemed strained. Though his frown deepen at the way your breath hitched. He whipped towards the other man. “You idiot, were you trying to kill her. You know how fragile humans are.”

He barely paid the vampire any mind. “I'm so sorry (Y/N). Are you ok? What am I saying, of course your not.” He began to pace.

You placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Hey, it's OK. I think it's only strained.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “I'll just have to stick to legs for a bit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even after offering to take you to Urgent Care and paying. You still insisted that you were fine. That an ice pack and some sleep would do the trick. That didn't stop the men from escorting you home.

Guillermo rushed into their house, trying his best to ignore his Master. It did little good.

“You are a reckless idiot. How could you let her get injured. You should have let those weights crush you.” He followed him through the house. Pushong passed the crew, irritated. Watching as he rifled amongst his things, the Vampire grew enraged. “Are you even listening to me!”

Swinging around to face the taller man, he was red with anger. “How could I not. Look i know I screwed up. That's why I'm getting my heating pad. Alternating between heat and cold should help her recover faster.” Then he quickly walked to the front door.

Nandor enjoyed the thought of you healing faster. But frown at Guillermo being the one to cause it. “Then we will take it to her together.”

The familiar came to a sudden stop. “No, I'm going to see MY friend. If all of this is my fault, then I should be the one to take care of it.”

Glaring down at the shorter man, he could feel his nail digging into his palms. “That is why I should go. To make sure you don't kill them.”

His face became a blank mask to shroud his emotions. As calmly as he could manage he said. “Actually Master, I think you have a much better chance of taking their life. Now if you don't mind, I have something to see to. Including not worrying about being invited inside her home.” He left swiftly.

A fact that Nandor was both angry and relieved by. Huffing he went to confide in the only man in the house that was successful in love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Swaying through the air as a bat. He couldn't help but curse at having taken Laszlo's advice. How could he be stupid enough to believe that drinking from intoxicated humans would help. Now he was over thinking what you and his betrayal of a familiar were doing.

Veering away from his own home, he transformed back on your lawn. Stumbling to the front door, he didn't notice the light beginning to spill over the horizon. He called out to you, loudly wailing.

Making your way to the entrance, you were confused why someone would be here so early. That someone being a distraught Nandor was a surprise. Rubbing a hand across your face, you tried to focus on the situation.

He admired how your pajamas fit you. Taking a moment to try to commit the sight to memory. He attempted to throw himself into your embraced. But was halted by the very curse that Guillermo had thrown in his face. “Why must we be torn from each other?”

Staring at the man in bewilderment, you stepped forward. “Nandor, what are you talking about?”

He fell forward and wrapped his strong arms around you. Feeling your soft body fit against him pleasantly. “We are so different. You a human and me a vampire. You care for people, while I only think of them as food. Guillermo is right, I'm not good enough.”

Frowning at his drunken rambling, you heaved him towards your door. “I'm not sure what your getting on about. But why don't I get you some water and on the couch. Come on, let's get inside.”

He wiggled out of your arms, as much as he didn't want to. “No, you should be near me. I'm a monster that could kill you at any moment.” He turned to head home, but shrieked as the first rays of light hit his skin.

Shock ran through you. It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over you. You let instinct take over as you yanked him inside. Flinging the door shut, you went to check over his burns. After seeing they were only minor wounds, you smiled. “OK, so that wasn't just the booze talking.”

“No, I would not lie to you, you are to precious. Even now you have saved a monster like me." He took your hands into his own and leaned forward.

You met his lips in a tender kiss. Pressing your forehead against his own, you took in a shuddering breath.

“Is everything OK? I thought I heard…. oh for christ's sake!” There stood a disheveled Guillermo, a frown tugging at his lips. When he brought you the heating pad earlier he seemed so upset. You decided to invited him to stay over. But with the situation at hand, you didn't consider calling out to him for help. “You couldn't even wait another day to make a move. This is so like you, taking without considering others feelings.”

“Hey that's not fair. She obviously likes me.” Almost falling over himself to stand up and face the other man. “Why must you stand in the way of love?”

The familiar stepped forward and shoved a finger into his chest. “Because you're a killer that falls in love every other month.”

You had stood to the side stunned. You didn't realise the impact you had made on their lives until now. As you thought about it, you knew that you felt the same. It would hurt your heart to not have these men in your life.

Stepping between them, you took a breath to steady yourself. “I'd like a say in this. Being that I am the subject of the fight after all.” Placing a hand on each of their chest, you smiled reassuringly. “I'm a big girl. If I want to be friends with someone. Or date someone, it's my choice in the end.” You gave each of them a pointed look that caused their masculine ego to deflate.

Guillermo was the first to speak. “What if you break up? You won't want anything to do with things that remind you of Nandor…. Including me.”

The desperation in his voice broke your heart. You brought him into a tight hug. “You can't predict what the future might bring. But I can promise you that I don't veiw you as an extension of Nandor. So the chances of me not wanting to be around you aren't happening.”

He sniffled as you seperated. “Thanks, that's reassuring to hear.”

Turning to the Vampire, you patted his chest. “Nandor, I like you, a lot. But let's take things slow. It's obvious that there's still something that we need to learn about one another.”

He gave you a wide grin. “As long as it is time I get to spend with. Then I am happy.”

Guiding everyone to the couch, you made sure they both were comfortable. A simle settled on your face. Settling on top of Nandor and pulling Guillermo onto yourself. A calm washed over your heart. Things may get rocky, but you guys could figure it out together in time.

[sjsmith56]

I Won’t Watch You Die

Summary: AU one shot. Bucky and Steve, caught during a bank robbery are given the opportunity to become part of a special unit for the Strategic Scientific Reserve, formed to fight HYDRA. Bucky’s wife is happy they aren’t in jail but she has her own fears of what could happen to her husband.

Length: 7.1 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, Steve Rogers. Brief cameo by General Phillips, Dr. Erskine, Agent Peggy Carter, Bruce Banner and Sam Wilson.

Warnings: Minors DNI - brief scene containing mild sexual content which may be unsuitable for underage readers. OFC worrying about Bucky, OFC seeming a little bitchy due to stress, economic circumstances making life difficult for working class, heartbreak.

Author notes: This AU is set in the early 1940s, after the United States have entered the war.  The Depression lasted longer in this universe, affecting many more people, including Bucky's family who lost their house when his dad was injured at the shipyard.  After getting laid off himself, Bucky and Steve turned to bank robbery, hoping to use the money to help as many families as possible in their neighbourhood survive until the war economy takes root.  Steve's mother is still alive but is not doing well.  The opening scenes are inspired by the film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  The dialogue (marked with *) in the bedroom disrobing scene is taken from the film and was written by William Goldman.  The title is also a line from the movie but is used in a different context here.

Brooklyn, spring 1943

It had been a long ride on the subway back to Brooklyn and the young teacher was tired.  Etta stayed at the school to finish marking assignments, not wanting to bring them home over spring break.  By the time she got to her stop the sun was almost set and it looked like there might be a late spring snowstorm.  Drawing her thin coat around her, Etta exited the car at the elevated station and stepped carefully down the stairs exiting out the gate at the bottom.  The wind came up, biting through her clothing, even as she wrapped her arms around her, trying to protect her gloveless hands from the elements.  There was nothing she could do about the bare legs, having torn her last pair of stockings the week before.  With rationing because of the war limiting the supply she hoped that warmer spring weather would come soon.

Finally reaching the row of brownstones that had been converted from single family homes to flats, she went up the stone steps, then in through the front door, stopping to open her mailbox and collect her mail.  Quickly, she flipped through them, grimacing at the number of bills there were.  The afternoon newspaper was also there, and she briefly read the headline about the latest bank robbery, blamed on two local men she knew well.  Folding it back up she tucked the mail and paper under her arm and went up the three flights of stairs to her one-bedroom flat, unlocking the door and closing it then turning on the kitchen light.  The bundle of papers was placed on the kitchen table.  Her coat came off, followed by her shoes, then she slipped her cold feet into her slippers left by the door.  It was chilly in the flat, and she opened the coal fireplace in the parlour, tossing several pieces into the burner, then a few lit matches, hoping it would catch.  As she walked towards her bedroom she unbuttoned her sweater, taking it off in the room lit from the light spilling in from the kitchen.  Hanging it up in the wardrobe she turned around, startled to see a man sitting in a chair beside her bed.  His face was obscured but he was big, based on the shadowy outline of his figure.

"Keep going teacher lady*," said the man, glancing at a gun on the table beside him, then focusing his eyes on her.  "It's okay, don't mind me.  Keep on going.*"

She froze until he turned on the bedside lamp, picked up the gun and held it.  Slowly, she undid the buttons on her dress, and slipped it off over her shoulders, letting it drop onto the floor.  A loud breath escaped through his nostrils as he gazed hungrily upon her in her slip.

"Let down your hair*," he ordered.

She undid the pins that held her hair up and it fell loosely around her shoulders.

"Shake your head*," was his next command, letting out an almost obscene sound at the sight of her doing that.  "Uhh*."

He gestured with the hand that had the gun in it, towards her slip, wordlessly suggesting it come off.  The dark-haired woman didn't move fast enough, and he cocked the gun.  Slipping those straps off she let them slide off her shoulders, then stepped out of the slip, before holding it against her bare chest.  He uncocked the gun and stood up, leaving it on the table beside the chair.  Pulling his suspenders down, he stepped slowly towards her, keeping his blue eyes focused on hers.  Taking the slip in his hands, he tossed it aside, and gently placed his hands on her ribcage before sliding them up to cup her soft, round breasts in the dim light that came through the doorway.

"You know what I wish?*" she asked before he did anything else.

"What?*" he smirked.

"That for once, you'd get here on time*," she answered, emotionally, throwing her arms around him and kissing him, frantically.  "Where the hell have you been, Bucky?"

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, as her hands unbuttoned his shirt, almost ripping it off his body.  "We got here as soon as we could."

She stiffened when she heard the word "we."

"Steve?" she asked.  "Where is he?"

"He made himself scarce so we could be alone," answered Bucky, leading her over to the brass bed, covered in the quilt her grandmother made.

Pulling back the quilt he laid her down in the crisp, white bedsheets, unable to take his eyes off her.  He quickly undressed, eager to join Etta in bed after not being with her for so long.

"I missed you," he whispered as he buried his face in her neck, taking in the smell of Ivory soap that she used for bathing.  "You smell so good."

"You don't," she retorted.  "When was the last time you had a bath?"

He shrugged, then raised his head so he could look at her face.  "We haven't exactly been living in the best accommodations, sweetheart.  Haven't eaten since yesterday, either."

"You gave it all away again, didn't you?" asked Etta, looking carefully at him.  "Bucky, you have to keep a little to survive.  What about Steve's medicines?"

"I keep enough for those," he answered.  "But people aren't doin' well and with the war and rationing, it's hard.  I can't keep money when I know there's a family that hasn't eaten in two days because their daddy got hurt on the docks.  It's what happened to my dad, and they lost the house.  I can manage."

She wanted to cry at how this man she loved so much had turned to robbing banks and passing on the money to people in need, hardly keeping any for himself.  A tear must have escaped because Bucky kissed her cheek gently.

"I should be mad at you," she whispered.  "Putting yourself in this kind of trouble for people you barely know."

"But you love me, don't you?" 

"You wish."

His lopsided smile made her heart flip, then he pressed himself into her, making her whimper.

"Say it," he murmured.  "Please."

It took several more attempts of him kissing Etta before she relented.

"I love you," she answered, looking up at him, as she accepted the full weight of his muscular body on hers.

"Damn, I love you," he groaned as he thrust into her. 

For the next half hour, there was no banter or talking about his profession.  He just wanted to touch her and feel her body react to his, bringing both to the brink of bliss before he pulled out early, not wanting to add a pregnancy that would get Etta fired from her job.  Immediately, he helped her come, knowing she needed it.  Taking a handkerchief out of his trouser pockets, he cleaned her up, then slid his arm under her head, kissing her on her temple.  They laid like that for a while, until she sat up a little, to look out the window behind the head of the bed.  With a sigh, she waved at someone outside, then she put her slip on and robe over top of it.

"I'm letting Steve in," she said.  "He looks miserable out there.  I'll start boiling water for you two to have a bath.  Then you change into clean clothes so I can wash those ones.  In the meantime, make yourself useful and start something up for supper.  I have some pork chops that you can fry up and leftover potatoes.  There might still be a good onion as well."

Bucky sat up and grabbed her hand as she came around from her side of the bed, kissing it.

"You're too good for me, Etta."

"I know," she smiled, then she cupped his face with the hand.  "You're too handsome to say no to."

After unlocking her door and leaving it slightly ajar, she looked for her biggest pot and filled it with water, then placed it on the biggest burner of the gas stove in the kitchen, turning it up high.  She heard the door open and went to the hallway.

"Thanks, Etta," said Steve, Bucky's best friend, as he took his wet shoes off and unwound the scarf from around his neck.  "I tried to sit in a diner with a nickel coffee, but they told me unless I ordered some food I couldn't stay.  There was a lineup of soldiers and sailors waiting to get in.  I guess a bunch are shipping out tomorrow."

"Yeah, they're shipping out every day," she answered.  "Go sit by the fireplace in the parlour and warm up.  I've put some water on to boil for you and Bucky to have a bath.  He's going to start supper, if you want to help him.  I'll get the washtub ready."

"Etta?" She stopped to look at the thin, sickly man, his eyes seeming too big for his face.  "Have you seen my ma?"

She thought for a moment, as if she was trying to word things right. 

"Yes.  She's in the parish poor house but she doesn't look good.  I don't think she's going to last much longer, Steve.  She said not to try to see her.  If you do, they'll arrest you."

He swallowed and nodded his head, looking ashamed for a moment.  She squeezed his shoulder then left to pull the washtub out from where it was positioned in the pantry.  A pantry that had barely any food in it.  When she returned to the kitchen, a fully dressed Bucky had the pork chops on and was chopping the onion and potatoes up.  He took over when Etta tried to lift the big pot, carrying it to the pantry and pouring it into the tub.  Then he filled it up again and put it on the burner for the next one.  Four pots would give him enough to have a shallow bath.  Etta could pour a smaller pot of warm water over his head to rinse after he washed his hair.  Then he would help Steve as he was too shy to have Etta see him naked.  Finally, they would start another batch of water boiling to wash their clothes.  Privately, Bucky was afraid they would fall apart in the harsh laundry soap as it had been a while since either he or Steve changed them.  Another pot of boiling water was poured into the washtub before the meal was ready and they sat down together. 

Etta took only a small amount of food, giving Bucky the bigger portion and Steve more than hers.  Both men ate hungrily, and she opened the ice box, finding the cake that one of her students brought her earlier that week, a boiled raisin cake.  She cut a generous piece for each man, then sat back and watched them eat.  Steve couldn't finish his, pushing it towards her, so she obliged him and ate the rest.  Unable to afford coffee, they drank water.  Bucky pushed his chair back and patted his stomach.

"Etta, that was excellent," he said.  "A feast fit for a king."

"You cooked most of it," she replied drily, then stood up to take the dishes to the sink. 

Bucky pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck until she laughed.  Winking at Steve, he tickled her a little until she almost screamed and pulled herself away from him.  She went to the bathroom to relieve herself, then stood in front of the sink, looking at herself before she washed her hands in the cold water.  A slight knock got her attention, and she opened the door to Bucky.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asked.  "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine," she smiled.  "I had to go, that's all."

"The water's ready for me to have my bath," he said.  "Do you want some hot water in the sink to clean yourself up?"

She nodded, and he kissed her, then left her there, coming back with a smaller pot of hot water from the washtub, pouring it into the sink.  Returning to her bedroom, she got her nightgown and brought it back.  Then she gave herself a sponge bath, cleaning what she could before drying off and putting her nightgown, then her robe on.  Emptying the sink, she rinsed it with cold water.  The sound of Bucky singing That Old Black Magic reached her ears and she came out to the kitchen where Steve was cleaning up, using a smaller pot to heat water for the dishes. 

"Thanks, Steve," she said.

"Least I could do.  We did eat your food."

Bucky was singing again, and they smiled at each other.  When the water in the bigger pot was warm, she took some of it, carrying the water to the pantry where Bucky sat in the bath water, cleaning his armpits. 

"Have you washed your hair yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," he said, squeezing the washcloth over his head, then scrubbing it with the Ivory Soap bar. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as he did then nodded his head.  Etta slowly poured the clean water over him, rinsing off the lather as Bucky ran his hands through his hair.  When the last of the water was poured, he wiped his face with his hands, then gingerly opened his eyes before smiling at her.

"Hi darling.  I smell better now."

She looked at the dirty water in the tub and shook her head at how filthy it was. 

"Try not to spill any on the floor when you hook up the hose to drain it.  Make sure you rinse it before putting clean water in."

He saluted and she returned to the kitchen to top up the water that was taken from the big pot.  Steve was drying the dishes and putting them into the cupboard, standing on his tiptoes to reach the one shelf.  Bucky came out wrapped in a towel and kissed Etta on his way to the bedroom, to change into clean clothes that they left with her.  He brought Steve's clean clothes and a towel with him, placing them in the pantry room.  As they waited for the water to boil in the big pot, he glanced at Etta's mail and flipped through the envelopes, frowning, as he opened them.

"Sweetheart, this one is marked final notice," he said, holding up a bill from the electrical company. 

"They raised the rates," she replied.  "I managed at the old rates, but I fell behind with the new ones.  I figured if I could push it towards summer before they turn off the electricity I can manage with candles for a while.  I can save up enough to pay the difference."

"What about the cancellation fees and the hookup fees?" he asked, visibly upset.  "They're nickel and diming people into losing their power now.  Where does it stop?"

"Don't yell at me," she answered.  "It's been hard managing.  I've been giving your ma money to tide them over.  My own mother isn't doing well.  I'm doing the best I can."

"Sweetheart, I'm not angry at you," he said soothingly, wrapping his arms around her, as Steve left to give them privacy.  "I'm just angry that people are hurting, and they keep adding costs onto everything.  What will they do when everyone is either homeless or in the poor house?  It can't go on like this.  Why isn't the government helping people more instead of putting us into a war across the ocean?"

"You know why," she stated.  "They have to stop Hitler, Bucky.  If they don't, he'll be here next."

"I know," he answered, shaking his head.  "It just gets to me."

The water on the stove was almost boiling and Bucky carried it to the washtub, then set another pot of water to boil.  Nothing more was said about the bills but when Etta went into the bedroom, he pulled Steve aside.

"We need to hit another bank," he said.  "She's stretched too thin, and I don't want her to lose her flat because she's been helping my family while I haven't been around.  I wish I knew about this sooner."

"She's a good woman," replied Steve.  "You should marry her."

"I plan to."  The dark-haired man ran his hand through his thick hair.  "One more bank job to help her and our families then that's it.  I'll enlist in the army.  It pays well and should be enough to help her and my parents out.  They can afford a three-bedroom apartment with steam heat and hot water on army pay, and live together.  With my pay and hers they'll do alright.  Maybe you can get on at a grocer's and take over this place.  You might be able to bring your ma to live with you."

"Sounds like a plan."  Steve looked to the bedroom.  "You should go to her.  I'll call you when the water is hot."

Bucky entered the bedroom to find Etta lying on top of the bed.  By the quiet sniffles he heard she was crying.  Sliding next to her, he rubbed her arm and kissed her shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  "I should have realized you've been taking care of our folks while we've been away.  You're a good woman Etta and I'm a better man because of you."

She rolled towards him, wiping her eyes.

"It's hard managing three sets of parents," she murmured.  "They worry about you."

"I know."  He cleared his throat.  "I'm going to enlist in the army, then I want us to get married.  With my army pay and your teacher pay, you can afford a better apartment; one big enough for you and my parents and sister.  Steve will try to get a job as more fellas are getting shipped out.  He can take over this flat and maybe bring his ma to live with him."

"Don't go getting all romantic on me, Barnes," grinned Etta, then her face became serious.  "You'd do that?"

He nodded.  "For you, anything.  I'll go tomorrow and look into it.  Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will."  He kissed her, drawing her close into his body, inhaling the scent of Ivory Soap on both of them, thinking he never smelled anything so good as that.

Steve called from the kitchen that the water was hot enough and he left her in the bed, going out to put it in the washtub.  One more pot should do it, since Steve was a smaller guy, and he would need some cold water in there because of his health.  A little while later as Bucky sat reading the paper while Steve bathed, he thought about his decision, knowing it was the right one.  All they needed now was the right bank for this last robbery.  With enough money to get a good apartment for everyone, he'd be ready to serve his country.  What could go wrong?

Six months later

It was warm at the docks, as Bucky and Etta were saying their goodbyes.  So much had changed since he decided on that one last bank job.  When he and Steve didn't even get the chance to pull their guns out, he knew something was wrong.  It was like the police already knew their plans as they streamed out of the bank's offices with their guns drawn and trained on the pair.  Ordered to surrender or be shot down, both men complied.  After they were cuffed and placed into the paddy wagon, they weren't even taken to the precinct.  Instead, they were taken to Fort Hamilton, the army base at the south end of Brooklyn.  There, they joined five other men in the stockade, until a man in an army uniform introduced himself and his companions when they entered the room, Colonel Phillips, a Dr. Erskine, and a British woman, Agent Carter with the Strategic Scientific Reserve, or SSR.

As she read the name and offence committed by each man in that cell from a file folder she carried in her hands, Bucky realized that they had been under surveillance for a long time.  Each man, Dugan, Dernier, Falsworth, Jones, and Morita, had skills that the SSR wanted to utilize.  When she got to Bucky, the Colonel looked him up and down.

"Well, he looks fit at least.  What skills does he bring to this unit?"

The woman smiled.  "He regularly wins prizes at the shooting galleries at Coney Island and Rockaway Beach.  Those rifles are rigged but he manages to quickly assess how they have been adjusted and can instantly change his aim.  I thought he could be the marksman for the group."

How did they know he always cleaned up at those shooting galleries?  How long had they been watching him?  The Colonel grunted then moved on to look at Steve.

"How old are you son?"

"23," he answered.  "What do you want of us?"

"I chose young Steven," said Dr. Erskine, his thick German accent surprising all of them.  "He is 4F, but that hasn't stopped him from trying to enlist five times at five different recruiting stations under five different names."

Steve felt his cheeks go hot, as Bucky glared at him.  The younger man's desire to enlist had been a source of contention between the two men for some time.  Erskine continued.

"I think he is the perfect subject for the project.  He's not already a killer; the fact the guns these two used were unloaded and they've never hurt anyone during their robberies proves it.  He tries to help people, as shown by them sharing the stolen money with people in dire need, and he has an artistic soul.  All of them an indication of a good man, limited only by his physical disabilities."

The Colonel grunted then nodded his head and stood tall in front of the cell. 

"You all have a chance to serve your countries, gentlemen, and I do mean your country for I know two of you are not citizens here.  You will be part of a special commando unit in the Strategic Scientific Reserve.  You're going to undergo six months of training, then we're going to send you on a special mission to fight a special type of Nazi."

"What if we say no?" asked Bucky.

"Then you go back to the police and wend your way through the criminal justice system.  In your case, even though your guns were unloaded, it's still considered armed robbery.  With the number of successful heists you pulled off, you're looking at life imprisonment."

The seven men looked at each other then all verbally agreed to join the special unit.  They really didn't have much choice.

In the six months since then much had changed for all of them as they underwent a gruelling training regimen that turned them all into exceptional soldiers.  Except Steve, who only trained with them sometimes and even then wasn't expected to achieve what they did physically.  He was undergoing some different training that he was sworn to secrecy about, even from the others, admitting it was a special project that was expected to change the shape of warfare forever.  While the others were being sent to Europe to be imbedded with a regiment, Steve would be staying behind for a time before he joined them.  Today was the day that Bucky and the others were shipping out.

Allowed to marry Etta on one of his leaves, Bucky learned on his honeymoon that his father got a desk job at the shipyards, and his family were moved to a newer three-bedroom apartment with steam heat and running hot water, with a real bathroom.  Steve's ma was moved to a nice sanitarium to live out her final days in a place that was bright and warm.  Etta and Bucky were offered a newer two-bedroom apartment in a nice area of Brooklyn, with all the amenities.  During their honeymoon they rarely stepped foot out of that apartment. 

He smiled at the memory of that week, then looked at his wife again, as they stood outside the gate where thousands of soldiers had lined up to board a former cruise ship that would take them to England.  Bucky felt a pang in his heart at leaving her behind.

"I'll miss you," he murmured, holding her close enough to place his lips near her ear.  "I'll write you as much as I can."

Etta smiled at him, even though inside her fears were clawing at her.  "I'll miss you too and I'll write you twice as much.  Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," he answered.  "When I get back, we'll start a family."

Their kiss was long, tender, and noticed by others, who guessed they were newlyweds.  Then Bucky picked up his duffel bag and checked in at the gate.  He only went a short way when Etta called out to him.

"Hey Sergeant!"  He turned back to look at her.  "Do your duty, soldier."

"Yes ma'am!"

He saluted then joined the line, watched by Etta until she lost sight of him in that sea of green.  She returned to her comfortable apartment, wondering what type of work Bucky had to do for them to warrant this kind of luxury.  What had he promised them so that she and his family were taken care of so well?

🪖 🚢

Two weeks later, she received a visitor at her apartment.  A strong knock drew her out of the kitchen, and she opened the door to a tall, blond, muscular man in an army uniform, who smiled at her as if they knew each other.  It took her a moment to realize it was Steve and she fainted.  When she came to, she was on the couch in her living room, with a cold, damp washcloth on her forehead.  Taking it off, she sat up to face the man, who sat in the armchair across from the couch.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, it's me," he replied.  "Before you ask, I can't tell you how I look this way.  It's a national secret."

"Okay," she breathed.  "Will you look like this forever?"

He smiled and nodded.  "It's permanent."  His face became serious.  "I'm here on official business.  Normally, the army sends out a telegram."  Immediately, Etta could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she thought of all those fears about Bucky.  "I found out this morning and received permission to give you the news directly.  I already saw his parents.  Bucky's MIA.  In fact, the whole unit is.  They were imbedded with the 107th regiment and were sent with a couple of companies on a mission.  200 men left, less than 50 returned."

"No, he just got there.  Why would they send them out so soon?"

"That's just the way it was."  He looked at his hands.  "Did Bucky ever tell you about the commando unit and who they were training to fight?" She shook her head.  "It's a special division of Nazis called HYDRA.  They're worse than the SS and are up to some scary things.  It's likely they were captured by this division.  They're no longer where the battle was and quite frankly, they're having trouble finding where the prisoners have been taken.  I'm going over by aircraft tomorrow with our command team to take over the search for them.  I promise that I'll do all I can to find Bucky.  With my rank, I can send my own telegrams, and I'll send one to you and to Bucky's parents as soon as I can."

"Your rank?" She looked at him, puzzled.  Just a few weeks ago he was a small, sickly man who had health issues that could kill him at any moment.  "What are you?"

"A captain, but not just any captain.  I can't tell you anymore than that.  Just know, that I can do things other men can't."  He stood up.  "I better go now.  I still need my rest, just like any other guy."

She walked him to the door and on impulse, hugged him, surprised to find that he was very warm; the heat from his body radiating through his uniform.  It was all so strange and seemed to be happening so fast.

For the next month, Etta tried to keep to a routine.  With it being summer, she was off work, but she regularly visited Sarah Rogers at the sanitarium, and her in-laws, the Barnes at their apartment.  She walked, read the newspapers voraciously for any word of the war, and slept poorly each night, consumed with dreams of Bucky in pain.  Then one day, a knock at the door brought her a telegram and she opened it to read that Bucky, and the special unit he was in, had been rescued.  There were no other details other than it would all be in the news within a day or so.  That was when she found out that Steve Rogers was Captain America, the allies first super soldier, the result of a scientific experiment that gifted him with perfect health, great strength, and incredible stamina to fight against the Nazis.  Single-handedly, he broke into a secret base, released the prisoners, including his own captured unit, then together destroyed the base, dealing a significant blow against the enemy.  It was heady stuff, and the public ate it up.  Just as they ate up the future exploits of Captain America and the Howling Commandos, the name given to that special unit.  Over the next year much was written about them, and they were on the newsreels all the time. 

Etta didn't care much for all that, as it just reinforced her fears for Bucky's safety.  Instead, she lived for his letters, filled with love for her.  She wrote back just as much; filling her letters with dried flowers from the window boxes of their apartment, drops of her perfume, and even small slivers of Ivory Soap that she shaved off and placed in the envelope, hoping that he would notice the smell and think of them, when he was still on the run. 

Her fears slowly subsided until just after Christmas 1944, when she woke up screaming one morning from a dream that seemed all too real: a dream of Bucky falling.  The next morning when she received Steve's telegram, she thought she would die.  At Bucky's funeral with an empty coffin, she and his mother numbly received the folded flag, neither of them in a state to feel anything else.  Just a few weeks later, when the newspapers reported the death of Captain America, she thought she had died and gone to hell.  At his funeral, she received the flag on behalf of his mother, who was too ill to attend.  After giving it to her in the sanitarium she wasn't surprised when Sarah Rogers died a day later, clutching the flag that represented her only child.  It was all too much for the young woman and she took a leave of absence from her teaching job, sitting alone in her apartment, not eating or drinking; not wanting to live in a world without Bucky.

⏳ ⌛️

"Etta," said a voice, a familiar voice but one that shouldn't even exist anymore. 

She opened her eyes and screamed, before a hand was placed gently on her mouth, then removed.

"Steve?"

He was older, and wearing a blue suit of some kind, like the one he wore as Captain America, but it was different. 

"Yeah, it's me.  Get dressed.  We don't have much time."

"You're dead."

"No, it was thought I was but it's too hard to explain and will take too long.  Do you trust me?"  She nodded.  "Just get dressed.  Wear trousers. I'll wait in the living room."

Quickly, she rose and put some clothes on, then brushed her hair and came out to see him standing in front of the window.  He turned around quickly and smiled at her, then took something out of his pocket.

"Put this on."  He slipped a strange device on her hand, then took her other hand in his.  "Ready?"

"Wait, where are you taking me?"

"To Bucky," he smiled, then pressed a button on the device.

She held her breath as some sort of suit grew out of the device, encasing her body so quickly that she couldn't believe it.  Then there was a flash, darkness, then another flash and the suit disappeared as quickly as it was created.  She was outside, amongst a group of trees, near a lake.  A man with long hair and a beard turned swiftly around, his eyes exactly like Bucky's.

"Etta," he whispered, then enclosed her in a noticeably warm hug, his face pressed into her hair.  "It worked."

She pulled away and looked at this man with Bucky's eyes and voice. 

"I don't understand," she stammered.  "You died.  Both of you died.  You left me alone but you're here, wherever this is and you're alive.  Is this heaven?"

"Upstate New York," said another voice and she looked towards it only to be startled by the appearance of a green skinned giant wearing glasses.  "It's okay.  I won't hurt you.  I'm Bruce and you're very much in upstate New York.  It's 2023 and you've come through time."

It was all too much for Etta and for the second time in her life, she fainted, aware only of someone saying to catch her before she fell.  When she woke up, it was on a blanket, next to the lake she remembered seeing on her arrival.  The sun was peeking through the trees with a slight breeze making the remaining gold and orange leaves rustle.  It was autumn, she realized.  It had been winter in New York when Steve appeared in the apartment.  Three men sat nearby, talking quietly, then one turned around.

"Your wife is awake, Bucky," he said, standing up and approaching her.  "Hi, I'm Sam.  I’m a friend of Steve and Bucky.  How do you feel?"

"Confused," she admitted.  "What the green man said about it being 2023.  Is that true?"

"Yeah," he smiled.  "Kind of overwhelming, isn't it?  These two didn't help matters but Steve really didn't have the time to explain.  Bucky should have at least cut his hair and shaved for you so that he was more of a familiar face."  His face grew serious, and he glanced back at where Steve and Bucky stood, giving her some space.  "Steve had to go back in time to fulfill a promise made.  Bucky asked if someone could be brought forward.  He's been through a lot and well, he thought if you were here with him, it would make it easier for him to adjust.  It won't be easy for you as there's almost 80 years of life for you to catch up on but together, I think you can do it, and you won't be alone.  There's a few of us here that will help you both." 

Acknowledging his words, Etta began to stand, accepting Sam's help up, then he walked away, followed by Steve, leaving her and Bucky alone.  She studied her husband’s face, seeing lines on it that hadn't been there before.  He wore black, which he never wore before and he had gloves on, which was strange because it wasn't cold. 

"Come, sit," he said, gesturing to a bench that overlooked the lake.  "There's so much to tell you."

"Start with why you aren't dead." 

He smiled.  Etta always was blunt.  It was one of the things he missed about her.

"Everyone thought I was, as I fell a long way.  But they didn't know that when I was a prisoner of HYDRA for that month when I was MIA that they did something to me that changed me.  They were trying to turn me into a super soldier like Steve.  I survived the fall, but HYDRA found me and took me back to their lab to finish the job.  They didn't just turn me into a super soldier, they erased Bucky Barnes, and turned me into a killer, a weapon to do their bidding.  It took them years because I fought them as hard as I could but, in the end, they made me into someone called the Winter Soldier.  I killed many people for them, Etta.  They kept me alive, freezing me then unfreezing when they wanted me to kill.  It's why I haven't aged much."

She gazed steadily at him, seeing the regret that was engraved on his face and in his eyes.  Yes, he had been a killer, but he wasn't anymore.  Somehow, he got away. 

"Why is Steve still alive?"

"He didn't die either, but no one knew that.  He deliberately crashed that plane full of bombs in the Arctic then he was frozen in the ice but the serum he got that changed him into a super soldier kept him alive, just enough that when he was found in 2011, they were able to thaw him, and he woke up.  He became Captain America in the 21st century and fought against HYDRA again, as they never really went away because what I did helped them to become dangerous again."

Etta didn't have to say it, but she did, wanting a straight answer. She was always smart at reading between the lines. It was something Bucky loved about her.

"They sent you after him, didn't they?"

Bucky nodded.  "I was sent to kill him and that's when he found out I was still alive.  He called me by my name and there wasn't a big flash of understanding or anything like that but more like an unraveling of all that they did to me.  It took some time, and I was sent to kill him again and I almost did.  I swear, I wanted to bash his face in and shut him up because he kept calling me Bucky.  Then I saw him in my mind, as he was then.  The little guy, who was always sick, his face bloody from being beaten up, and me coming to help him.  That was the beginning, and I didn't kill him.  He and his new team were able to stop HYDRA, and I went underground until he found me again and we ended up in the biggest fight of our life against someone more dangerous than HYDRA had ever been.  They needed time travel to do it and when some things had to go back to their time, I asked about bringing you forward."

She was full of questions and rattled them off one after another.

"Why not your parents or Rebecca?  Why me?  I'm not sure I can live in a future where everything is so strange.  I mean a real green giant and time travel.  What else has changed in all those years?  If I don't fit in, can I go back?"

"It was better my parents didn't find out what I became.  Rebecca's still alive and I couldn't bring her younger version forward.  It had to be you.  You're my wife."  He swallowed and his eyes became glassy as he looked out over the lake.  When he spoke again, his voice was wavering.  "You died, Etta.  Steve found your grave; you were buried next to my empty coffin.  Your date of death was February 5, 1945.  He looked up in the newspapers how you died ... you killed yourself."  The tears began falling down his cheek.  "I can't send you back because I won't watch you die, Etta.  Please, stay here in the future with me.  Don't make me face life without you, not when we can be together again."

He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, wiping his eyes.  Noticing the gloves on his hands again, Etta took his one hand in hers. 

"Why are you wearing gloves on a warm day?  What aren't you telling me?"

He swallowed noticeably again, then took the glove off his right hand.  It looked normal and she caressed it, then interlaced her fingers with his.  With her right hand she reached for his left and tugged on the glove.  When it came off a metal hand was revealed, black with gold markings.  She looked up at him for an explanation.

"I lost my arm in the fall and HYDRA gave me a new one, a monstrous thing that was used to deliver death and destruction.  It was eventually destroyed and a kind king in a country with incredible technology designed a new one.  It's still metal but I can feel with it, and it's meant to be as close to a real arm as possible.  It wasn't designed to hurt or kill.  I'll show you all of it when we're alone, but it is different and may take some getting used to.  It's why I can't go back."

They sat without talking for some time, but she didn't pull her hand out of his. 

"What do they do for work in the 21st century?"

"A lot of the same.  I'll be part of Steve's team, called the Avengers.  They kind of protect the whole world from evil."

"No more bank robberies?"

Bucky smirked.  "No more bank robberies."

"I should still be mad at you," she whispered.  "Putting yourself in this kind of trouble for people you barely know."

"But you love me, don't you?" 

"You wish."

His lopsided smile made her heart flip like it always did, then he pressed his lips onto hers, making her whimper.

"Say it," he murmured.  "Please."

It took several more attempts of him kissing Etta before she relented.

"I love you," she answered.  "I'll stay."

"I love you, too," he cried, kissing her all over her face before he grasped it in his hands.  "We'll have a nice place to live, and we can start a family, if you want.  I know I'm older now but inside I'm still the young man you married at City Hall."  His eyes searched her face.  "We just have to find Steve a girlfriend."

"I heard that," said Steve, still talking to Sam a fair distance away.  "I can find my own girl."

"Yeah, you've been in this century how long and you're still single," answered Bucky, standing up and pulling Etta with him.  "Face it, you need our help."

As the two men bantered back and forth, Etta made eye contact with Sam, who grinned at her.  Apparently, Steve was just as hopeless with romance now, as he had been in the 1940s.  She wasn't sure how well she would adjust but having her husband and his best friend back in her life was better than good.  It just felt right, as if it were how it always was and would always be.

One Shots Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[guy-with-a-red-headband]

I will starts charging you for borrowing Ryunosuke, my dear fellow. You are keeping him away from me and the precious Iris Wilson. A bill will soon be in your mailbox. :3

(Totally not doing this cause I need money to pay the flat rent or anything. Your delusional.)

I believe you’re mistaken. As much as i do check Ryu out he is NOT a library book. You may not borrow him of any sorts. I am not keeping him from you as he is my beloved partner.

[saltsicklover]

Dear Ace - Fan Mail Pt. 4

Title: Dear Ace - Fan Mail Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2900

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of blood, straight razor, angst. Sam fucking Wilson. 

-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

"I need to know one thing, what apartment do you live in?" 

The letter burned a hole in her pocket. There was no kind greeting, no signature. Nothing that even remotely sounded like it came from Bucky. She was used to short correspondence from him, the last letter she received being only a handful of sentences long, but this was completely new. If it hadn't been addressed with his return address, she wouldn't have believed that it came from him. 

She had carried it around for two days, folded up and stuffed deep into her back pocket. The letter has pulled her focus from work, her brain entirely caught up one that one sentence, those forty-three letters written in jet black ink. There are inky half prints from his fingertips that lay over the sides of the letter, each a little piece of Bucky. She runs her finger lightly over the prints while curled up in her favorite armchair, a plush blanket pulled over her body. 

She fights the urge to call the whole thing a bust. Maybe having sent the first letter was a mistake. Asking for closure, dragging up a memory, trying to bury the guilt instead of just fucking feeling it, all a mistake. Maybe she deserved it, the pang of guilt ridden pain that seems to wrap itself around her ribcage, constricting and writhing. 

Two days later, the letter still carried with her, just crumpled in the bottom of her bag this time, she returns from a grueling day at the Set. Her clippers died in the middle of a cut, her straight razor is way past due for a sharpening and she had been the only one to fold towels all day long. Skipped over for tips more than once, she was ready to call the day finished. A drink and her comfortable clothes waited for her. 

She expected a quiet night in, a hot meal and maybe a few minutes to try and get through a few pages of the book she has been trying to get through for the last six months. What she did not expect, however, was the lone envelope she found in her mailbox. 

The return address, Avengers Tower, but the name scrawled in blue ink read 'Wilson'. Her breath hitched at the sight. She brought her hand up to her chest, pressing down firmly in a makeshift attempt to ground herself. She drug herself up the stairs of her building, her brain too full of questions to even think about waiting for the elevator. If she kept moving, maybe she could keep up with her thoughts- but that isn't exactly how that works, especially when her mail key is still in her mailbox lock, the door left open. 

She drops her things right when she steps through her front door, her bags hitting the floor with a harsh thud. She shakes the letter in front of the window, watching as the paper inside falls to the bottom edge of the envelope before tearing the top off crudely. Now is not the time for gentleness, not with the way her heart is beating and the sweat that is starting to slick over her skin. She cuts her finger on the paper, a trickle of red running from the new cut on the side of her finger. She brings the digit to her mouth to keep from bleeding on anything as she opens the letter, a little clumsily, with one had. 

"I don't actually know your name at the time of writing this, so I am just going to call you Ace. 

Dear Ace, my name is Sam Wilson, I work with Bucky Barnes. I know this is coming out of left field but you and I need to talk. Buck got your letters, he opened them after a particularly hard mission which I am sure had something to do with his reaction, but there is something else there too. 

He showed our friend Steve and myself the trinkets, and everything was great until we got to that photo you sent of your home. Part of me thought it was a sick joke, taking a photo of the place they used to live before the war and passing it off as your home, but after we read the description you sent I figured it had to be true. The measurements are definitely not something you could read about in a book or find in a museum. 

It looks like you live in the exact same apartment that they did all those years ago. I don't know if it was the fact that Bucky found all this out after a mission or if it was the fact that is drug up a lot of shit for him but he is shaken. Absolutely shaken. Steve is too, but he is handling it a lot better. 

I think we need to meet up and have a chat. Give me a call. 

-Sam Wilson

PS- Bucky doesn't know I am reaching out, and I would like to keep it that way. I could have just used Government resources to track down your number, so keep that in mind."

Ace has to fight every urge not to crumple up the paper, the desire itching her palms, but she holds back. Instead, she pulls out her phone. After typing in Sam's number carefully, double checking each digit, she crafts a message laced with concern and frustration. 

"Sam, you will meet me at the shop, Sargent's English Traditional, in Hell's Kitchen tomorrow at 1400. Then we can talk. Don't be late." 

Ace doesn't bother signing the text, after all, he should be expecting her to reach out. If he doesn't, that's just too damn bad. And if she has to be talking to an Avenger, she is damn well going to do so with a set of sheers in her hand- something to keep her hands from shaking. 

She goes to bed at eight, not bothering to eat dinner. She buries herself in blankets, building a fort of comfort that does nothing to ease the anxiety that thrums through her. She tosses and turns, slowly but surely throwing blankets to the floor. This is destined to be a long, sleepless night. 

All the next morning Ace found herself watching the clock. As each minute ticked by, creeping closer and closer to two o'clock she became for frazzled. Her whole morning had been filled with clients, each coming in for an overpriced service that only held maybe half her attention. The other parts of her mind seemed to drift from Bucky and his curt letter, the one she has tucked into her apron, then over to Sam, who would be walking into the shop at any moment. 

The clock reads 13:55, she knows because she has looked at it three times in the past thirty seconds. She watches as the number flicks from 5 to 6, the bell to the font door jingling. Ace looks over to find a handsome man standing in the lobby, his deep eyes looking around cautiously. 

She debates for a moment about putting on her best customer service smile before walking over, but this isn't technically work, it's personal business and she was not about to make him feel any more comfortable than his unsolicited letter made her feel. Ace walks across the dark floor with light steps, her shoulders back, head held high. Sam notices her a moment later, a polite smile spreading across his lips. 

"Wilson?" She asks, her tone flat, eyebrow raised. 

"Yes ma'am, that's me. And you are?" He questions, shrugging off his jacket. He hangs it on one of the empty hooks near the door. 

"Ace," She smirks a bit, but the look in her eyes is less than kind. Sam lets out a little chuckle. Ace tries to pretend this is all normal as she watches his movements, the way he pulls up the sleeves of his dark shirt to the way he follows her over to her station. 

She sits him down without a word before tying a neck guard around his neck. She throws a cape over his body, buttoning it less carefully than normal. She isn't sure why she is so mad at him, or why she is taking it out this way, but she is too concerned with the distaste that coats her tongue and the ever present anxiety that won't unbind itself from her form. 

"You know, I don't actually need a haircut," Sam speaks up as she moves to grab her sheers from the drawer. 

She smiles at him, the corners of her lips turned upward, it's almost kind, almost. 

"Oh, that's okay," Ace starts, placing a hand on the back of the barber chair. She moves her other hand to pull the lever at the side, leaning him backward. "I thought I could give you a shave while we talk," Her words border on mischief and Sam watches as she pulls a tin of shave soap out of a drawer.

"Okay, just leave the goatee, would you?" He cocks an eyebrow at her, the motion more of a plea. She hums, pulling a towel out of the warmer. She folds it across his face, the heat hitting his skin with a pleasant burn. 

"I have to say, I was quite surprised to have gotten your letter," Ace begins, "I am sure you are looking out for your friends, and I respect that, but I have to ask, why are you here?" She pulls the towel from his face. 

"I have a couple of questions," He replies simply. 

She nods at him to continue, squirting the soap with her spray bottle. She uses a brush to swirl the soap before transferring it to a bowl. With a bit more water it begins to foam. She is determined to mix all of her anxiety out of her body and into the soapy solution. Ace paints Sam's face with the foam, his dark skin disappearing under soft bubbles. 

"Why did you reach out to Bucky in the first place?" Ace can't help but laugh. 

"Wait, he didn't tell you?" She questions him, running the brush down the side of his neck. He shakes his head 'no'.

"I am going to give you the abridged version. When I was a kid, the a man broke into my home and killed my grandparents. They worked for Hydra. They also abused me. I came to find out, as an adult, that the man who saved me from my abusers was the Winter Soldier. I wrote Bucky initially to get some closure. My therapist thought it would help," She explains. 

Ace pulls a straight razor from the Barbacide, wiping the extra liquid off on a clean towel. Sam watches her with wide eyes and he swears he saw the blade flicker in the light like some horror movie scene. Ace moves to position his head, laying the razor gently against his skin before pulling it down. Sam shivers a bit at the sound of the metal against his face. 

"After I sent that first letter, I did some research on Bucky. I wanted to know more about the man that gave me a chance at life, and I guess at some point I felt brave enough to write him again and see if he wanted to make writing letters a regular thing," Between swipes she rids the used shave foam from her razor with a clean towel. She works quickly, her movements precise. 

Sam listens to her words as his head is manipulated by her touch. The blade against his skin doesn't feel as foreign by the time she is done with his right cheek. She moves to the other side to start again. 

"When Bucky wrote me back, I was so damn excited. I gathered a bunch of little things I found special- I wanted to share them with him. I wrote out little notes about each and everything. I guess now I see how that could have been a lot to take in," She laughs a bit, lifting his chin with her finger. "That photo is my building. I do live there. You can use your little government tools to check into it if you don't believe me. I am 201." Sam wants to laugh, but the razor against his neck keeps him from doing so. 

"What else do you want to know?" She asks him, moving to shave his upper lip. 

"What are you hoping is going to come out of all of this?" Sam asks the minute she pulls away. Ace takes a deep breath, the smell of  shave soap soothing her sore lungs a bit. She drops her razor back into the Barbacide before pulling out another clean towel. 

"I was hoping for a friend," She speaks honestly, running the towel over Sam's freshly shaven skin. She pulls a bottle out off of her station, squirting some of the product into her fingertips. "But at this point, I think that's a long shot. He did write me back, but something about it just kinda hit me funny," She rubs the product over his skin and it soothes the irritation from the razor. 

Sam can't help but feel like he understands her completely in that moment. His mind flashes back to when he met Steve, his lungs and legs burning as he pushed himself to run faster, further. At first it was self serving but somewhere after the first two miles he found himself in a sort of friendship with the super soldier. If a friendship can grow out of something so simple as that, there is no reason one can't grow out of a couple of letters, Sam decides. 

"What did it say?" Sam asks as Ace sits his chair back upright. She pulls the piece of paper from her apron, holding it out to him. Her stomach twists a bit when he opens it. Sam reads over it quickly before handing it back to her. "Are you going to write back?" 

"I don't know," She pulls his cape off, untying the neck guard. 

"Well, look at it this way. He asked you for the number. He works with the Avengers, a group of people who can have information at their fingertips in no more than a few seconds but he wrote to ask. I think that implies some sort of trust there." Sam stands, leaning forward towards the mirror to check out her handwork. He runs a hand over his cheeks, admiring the closeness of the shave. 

Ace thinks over his words and they make sense. If Bucky wanted to, he could have all the information on her that he could ever want. He didn't need to ask, but he did. Sam puts a hand on her shoulder, pulling her from the depths of her thoughts. 

"If I were you, kid," Sam begins, taking a deep breath like he is trying to get himself to say something he isn't quite ready to say, "Write him back," He states, "Buck is a good guy and I think this is all just a lot for him. Just- write him back." She nods at him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. 

They walk up to the front of the shop together, Sam stopping at the till. 

"Thank you for talking with me, Ace." He begins, pulling out his wallet. 

"I'm not charging you, Sam," She states, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, I know you aren't," He pulls a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet. He puts it down on the counter, sliding it her way. She shakes her head no, trying to slide it back, but he catches her hand with his, the bill trapped firmly against the desk. "Think of it as stamp money, alright?" He smiles at her, the first real smile either of them have shared and she can't help but return it. 

"Thank you, Sam. Look after Buck for me, would you?" She asks, a sheepish look on her face. He doesn't say anything, instead nodding her her as he pulls his jacket back on. Sam disappears out onto the street, the jingle of the bell announcing his absence. 

That night, she pulls her stationary out, the same tan paper and blue pen that she writes all of her letters with. She takes a deep breathe before beginning to write, the words flowing out of her and onto the paper in messy letters. 

"Dear Bucky, I live in apartment 201. My apartment looks out over the side street and the back ally. It's situated in the corner of the building and it's one of the only apartments that has it's own staircase in and out. Is that what you want to know?" With Warmest Regards-" 

The letter is short but it says everything it needs to. The anxiety loosens it's hold on her chest as she licks the envelope, pressing it shut. She addresses it neatly, the information almost memorized now. She places a stamp on it, crooked in the corner. She can't help but feel like it represents this whole thing; slightly imperfect but still absolutely necessary. 

Ace puts the letter in the outgoing mailbox on her way to work the next day and it is the surest thing she has done in a long time. The anxiety only a whisper. 

TAG LIST 

@vicmc624 @cjand10 @songoficecreamandfireworks @crazymusicgirl104

[punch-love]

i was listening to your deadpool playlist and the whiplash i got going from lady in the wall to milf by fergie was unreal

you are experiencing it how I intended then

[crucifiedkiss]

◌ೆ୧　 ͢YOUR MAILBOX HAS MAIL ♡

𓈒⠀⠀⁺⠀𝜗 crucifiedkiss ╱ fandoms 𝜚

　　what i will write 44 ♡ not all of them written ♡ spoilers

𝜗୧ ּ݂⠀💌 your mailbox has letters from crucifiedkiss ﹗

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[woodrowwilsonofficial]

Mr Wilson do you not think you should employ more threats against these harassers in your mailbox? You do have the secret service with you, no?

yes, you’re right, i should nuke philadelphia

[abarbaricyalp]

WIP Game

Thanks for the tag @funsized-loser !!!! Please, everyone who wants to add on to this post, feel free! I love reading people's WIPs! This is from the next (hopefully) fic I'm posting! I'm so close to finishing it, I can almost taste it. It's called Tell It To The Bees (and the birds)

There was a bulletin board in the lobby of the building, across from the bank of mailboxes. It was supposed to be for building wide notices–fire inspections, water outages, that kind of thing. Mostly it was full of passive-aggressive notes about the cleanliness of the dog park and the fact that trash bags weren’t supposed to be left in the hallway for any length of time.

Bucky thought about leaving a note inquiring towards the bird coop, but he 1) didn’t want to get someone else in trouble and 2) more importantly, didn’t want to get himself in trouble. He reread a note about someone on the third floor who apparently habitually burned things in the oven as someone stood at the mailboxes.

“Hey, 203,” they called over.

Bucky startled slightly and turned around. His bland, friendly smile fell away as he realized who was there. “Wilson,” he greeted through his teeth. “I thought you worked Thursdays.”

Sam Wilson was in 205, the unit that shared a bedroom wall with Bucky’s bedroom. It wasn’t that Wilson was having rough, hot sex and reminding Bucky that he wasn’t. It was just that Wilson made a million other noises all through the night and then had the audacity to leave notes on Bucky’s door about singing in the shower.

Well. And there was the time Bucky accidentally kind of ruined their shared pipes by washing hair product down the sink. But that was an accident!

“It is definitely Friday,” Sam snorted. He continued to dig in his mailbox, freeing a large envelope that had been rolled and folded to fit into the small metal tray. “Hey, I’ve had gumbo stewing all day, if you wanna come over for dinner,” he added.

That was another thing he had the audacity with. He was always inviting Bucky over like he was some orphan to feed. Bucky didn’t even remember what off-handed, one-time remark he’d made about something smelling good before Wilson was all over him with invitations. It was so underhanded when they already clearly had a rivalry. Bucky could cook. He kept himself fed. Just because everything Sam made really did smell so damn good didn’t mean Bucky was always looking for food.

“Uh, no, thanks,” he said. “I’m actually on my way out to a ther–” Bucky cut himself off. He knew Sam worked at the VA as some kind of counselor, but that didn’t mean he wanted his nemesis to know just how deep his issues ran. Not that therapy was a bad thing. For, like, anyone else. Bucky was different. And Sam would know that. Sam would know exactly what kind of fucked up Bucky was. “I’m going out with friends.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and made a show of checking the watch he always wore. “At four in the afternoon? I can leave it on the stove a while longer. Come over when you get back.”

“Not really the kind of night where I’m planning on coming back,” Bucky lied.

Judging by the way Sam’s eyebrow rose even higher, he also clocked it as a lie. “Alright, man. Don’t gotta brag. Have fun or whatever.”

Bucky nodded, tripped over his feet when he couldn’t decide if he should be going to the building door or back to his apartment. Sam did an admirable job of hiding his snort.

“Later, 203,” he called over his shoulder as he ducked into the stairwell.

Bucky banged his head against the bulletin board and cursed his whole damn existence.

[lazyrants]

The LazyTown Circus (prod 203)

Original airdate: February 12, 2007

Story by Magnus Scheving

Written by Magnus Scheving, Mani Svavarrson, Noah Zachary

Directed by Magnus Scheving

Executive producers - Magnus Scheving, Ragnheidur Melsted, Raymond P. Le Gue, Brown Johnson, Kay Wilson Stallings

Starring Magnus Scheving, Stefan Karl Steffanson, Julianna Rose Mauriello

Puppeteers - Gudmondor Thor Karason, Jodi Eichelberger, David Matthew Feldman, Julie Westwood, Sarah Burgess, Ronald Binion, Emily Decola, Mary Robinette Kowal

In this episode, a song that starts off wonderfully and ends terribly is played, and Stephanie dresses up in her most horrendous costume in the entirety of the 100+ episodes produced (including the campaigns, Extra, Sproutlet Show).

Sportacus is playing with a Yoyo in the airship. He wraps the string around his water bottle and pulls it to him. While drinking, the crystal beeps. He goes outside to see what it is, and it's a fly stuck in a mailbox. WOW. JUST. WOW. Using the yoyo, he gets it out.

Look at that 3D effect. In 2013, three episodes from the then-new season were played in cinemas. Imagine if this was one of them and it was in 3D! Anyways, he wraps the yoyo around the mailbox handle and pulls up the yoyo, opening the mailbox and freeing the fly. The main episode starts with Trixie dialogue, my second-least favourite character so it's getting off to a bad start. She's doing a high-wire (that isn't that high), and once she finishes, it's Ziggy's turn. Can you predict what happens next? Yep, right. Robbie decides to eavesdrop (after playing two of his piano keys, for someone reason one makes a moo noise, so that was funny)..

Ziggy gets scaareeed.. beep beep beep. Sportacus attaches a hook to his belt buckle, and jumps out the airship. Supa. Kewl. Mainly because he's 3D animated in one of the shots & he doesn't even hit the ground.

Anyways, Ziggy's still being a whiny scaredy-cat, he's not even halfway through the walk, and Robbie is literally CHUCKLING. I don't blame him, either. Sportacus flips over to him, and he gives a 'u serious right neow bro' face to Ziggy, then he smiles and taps his shoulder. He lifts him off. Ziggy tells him he knew he wasn't that high up but he was still scared, and he gives him some good advice - try to be a little brave. Once he leaves, it's Stephanie's turn and she says that it's too low for her. Trixie says she's never been on a real one before, Steph says she has (she says they're as high up as TREES).

Ziggy believes her and even asks for her to help him and Trixie with the high walk and to do other cool stunts, and the idea comes for them to start a THE LAZYTOWN CIRCUS (lol episode name in episode review hehe) with animals, cotton candy (Guess who said that? They both said no), music, stunts, & cotton candy (Oh my god, Ziggy. SHUT. UP). When they leave, she decides to try the high walk.

Meanwhile, Stingy & Pixel are being epic gaemers!!11!! when Trixie comes in and tells them everything, including that they need animals. Stingy comes with actually funny dialogue - 'Pick Pixel! He's been eating cheesy garlic Crunch-O's all day and he smells like elephant feet! (Pixel breathes in his face) Urgh, call animal control, something's died in Pixel's mouth!'

Out of all the screenshots I've took for this review, this is my ultimate favourite. So after some more funny dialogue and an angry Trixie moment, we go back to Stephanie attempting the high walk once more, but she herself is scared.

When she sees Ziggy running to her, he puts the pole higher then it originally was. Ziggy runs to Stephanie with a clown nose on and tells her he is a clown. Red nose or not, he is a HUGE CLOWN. He falls (??????) Robbie laughs. He stands up, questions how high the pole is and tells Stephanie she's his hero. So screw the dude who saves you everyday & tells you how to live a healthy life. When Robbie overhears Ziggy's excitement about starting a circus, he attempts to think up a plan to stop it, but he can't think of anything. The end. Until, he starts whining about the annoying things of circuses and talks about cannons - then he devises a plan to shoot Sportacus out of one.

Ziggy sends Sportacus a letter asking if he'll do some circus stunts. He decides a few moves to do - the first one being this one where he throws a tennis racket from arm to arm, throws a ball in the air, AND HOLDS THE RACKET WITH ONE FINGER, AS WELL AS THE BALL. Then he throws a glass plate onto there as well.

And here comes a somewhat funny Disguise Time - Robbie chooses the ringmaster outfit and a light shines on him like he's actually in a circus.

He introduces himself as Roberto The Great, funny dialogue, etc. He ends his speech with 'LET'S START THE SHOW!' Anyways, for once, they do something with the Mayor's approval. They tell him about the circus. When Trixie says Steph's doing the high walk, she says Sportacus might do it. The animals Stingy and Pixel introduce themselves with obnoxious noises. LAZYTOWN FURRY PROPAGANDA AT 3AM NOT CLICKBAIT MUST WATCH 4K ULTRA HD. Anyways, Sportacus flips in and handstands, saying he is ready for circus stunts.

Milford starts saying a bunch of stuff they need for the circus, and Trixie tells him they already have most of the stuff he's talking about. Sportacus says they just need a ringmaster, and they get a ringmaster.

Roberto instructs them to follow him, and somehow, the LazyTown circus has just.. gotten there. Did he buy it like in Mystery of the Pyramid? Did he build it? Was it already there? They all follow him and go inside the circus.

They look for a few seconds until Robbie tells them to get prepared. Then we cut to Bessie and Milford for like five seconds after they bump into each other and Milford tells her he's got the tickets. Well, that was kinda useless. Anyways, Pixel is the head of a zebra.. horse thingy & Stingy is the tail which he complains about. They compromise to take turns. Then Pixel burps and Stingy runs out for air. I don't get why this is slightly funny but it is. Everyone is in their costumes, Milford & Bessie have arrived, and it's Time to Start The Show! (During the video, Steph plays the sax and spit comes out. Yuck.)

After taking the screenshot, I realized that is not the case.. *facepalm*, Trixie made it look like that with her water flower. After the song, Roberto tells Sportacus his very important role - to go into the cannon and fly into the 'very safe' net. He agrees once Roberto says the kids would love it. So he handstands his way to the cannon.

Before he gets in, Roberto tells him to put on his goggles (don't want anybody gettin hurt). He also tells him to cover his ears so he doesn't hear anything, and it works. Anyways, it's time for the high wire and Stephanie's too scared to. Roberto gets Ziggy and Trixie out of the way and tells them to stay there, pulling a lever that traps them in a net. He pulls up the net so they're just hanging in the air. Stephanie yells 'Oh no!' and Roberto overhears her.

Roberto chases Stephanie for a while, bringing up the question - what would he do if he caught her? Anyways, she climbs up the ladder, and Roberto drops the ladder so she can't get down. Milford and Bessie are idiots who think this is all staged. Stephanie attempts to get to them, but she can't, and she reveals she was lying. Took her long enough! Ziggy says she just has to be brave, and what ya know? She does it!!

lolwut. The crystal beeps, which Robbie thinks is the perfect time to launch Sportacus out. Sportacus swings onto this swingy thingy with his hands, and flips so now he's holding onto it with his legs. When Steph loses grip, he catches her.

Stephanie does an astonishing backflip onto the ground, then ANOTHER one after she lands. Sportacus does one only. But then again, he's Sportacus. He gets Ziggy & Trixie down, and the horse/zebra finally decides to make an appearance. Roberto says it's the perfect getaway and uses it as one, but Stingy & Pixel can't handle his weight, so they topple him over and he falls into a drum.

Notice the season one prop in the screencap. His hat falls off, and everyone finds out it's Robbie. Then he tells the kids to not try this at home (LOL). Stephanie apologizes to them for lying about her bravery, but they say she was brave enough to be truthful & actually go on the high wire. Ziggy is still sad they didn't get to see anyone on the high wire. So Sportacus goes on the high wire, and he's so daring he does FLIPS on the wire!

Then they perform the circus version of Bing Bang, which is pretty bad if I may say. In the lair, Robbie says that he was so close and he'll get Sportacus soon. He tries sitting down, but he can't, ya know, considering he has a drum on his posterior.

7/10 - Revisiting it, I liked it more. It was the song & costumes that put me off.